The Goonies: The Tomb of Mysteries
by babybeluga2003
Summary: Brandnew Goonies adventure in which they find a map leading to a tomb of a lost historical figure. Caverns, livestock trains, and a new bunch of bumbling bad guys. POV of Andy's cousin, Luna. Not a Mary Sue, don't worry
1. Hello Astoria

AUTHOR'S NOTE: For my own convenience, and the problem of not existing in '82, the place is the same, the characters are the same people, same age...but the year in the story is 2006. Deal with it. This is NOT a desperate attempt to sneak Harry Potter in here and there. Nope. Absolutely not.

The Goonies: The Tomb of Mysteries

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "We're going WHERE!"

"Oh come on, Luna. Andy's not that bad. You used to get along so well together." My father ran his hand through his blonde beard and stared sternly at me. You know, the look that all parents get that say "Give it a chance."

I sighed. "We were ten, Dad. I'm not ten anymore, and neither is she. Now she's turned into this..." I searched for a word to express my disgust, and found the perfect one. "Cheerleader!"

"Lighten up. So she's perky. That doesn't mean you two can't get along."

"Cheerleaders and I don't mix. They don't like me."

"Maybe they can't get past the hair."

My hair was streaked a rich purple, and I loved it. Apparently no one else in my family did. They loved to give me a hard time. I'd get dressed in the morning, and my stepmom would say, "Oh good morning, Luna. Out to kill someone today?" I don't think I look that threatening. I can't help it if most cheerleaders want to shoot me.

Lord, I didn't want to fly all the way to Oregon to see Andy. She is quite possibly the most pathetic, weak-minded person I know. Not stupid, exactly...just...easily swayed, I suppose. Easy to frighten. Wimpy.

Ditzy.

Cheerleader.

I wasn't going to go to Oregon. I didn't want to, and nobody could make me.

-ONE WEEK LATER-

"LUNA!" Andy's voice shrieked from the mob of people collecting their luggage. A moment later, I saw a slim figure weaving her way through the airport crowd. "Omigosh, I haven't seen you in, like, ever!"

I winced and braced myself for a hug. I got one.

"Um, yeah. Andy. Hi." I said in monotone. I wanted very much to get the point across that I wasn't happy being here without saying it directly.

She didn't get it. "Uncle Tony!" She threw her arms around my dad. I stared at her. She was wearing the tiniest pair of shorts I had ever seen, and they had the word "BABYGIRL" plastered across the seat. Ugh.

I guess I was simply determined not to like her. I am like that. I 'pre-program' myself. If I say I am not going to like something, I don't. I know it's all in my head. But I hate being wrong. I especially hate being wrong about myself. I was also determined not to have a good time in Astoria.

This may have been the only occasion where I was terribly, horribly, grotesquely wrong.

I love that word. Grotesque. It's so descriptive. It implies disfiguration or distortion. Or simply something that is absolutely revolting. Like a human skeleton is grotesque.

Of course, people expect me to like human skeletons. People expect me to like blood. People expect me to like many things because of my image. For instance, I hate war. I hate death, and destruction. I am appalled by the concept of Satanic rituals. But people never listen. People don't accept things. People have lost their ability to believe in things, their eyes have been masked by common sense and odds and chances and reality. The only people I can really identify with are children. Which begins our story.

On the way home from the airport, Andy pointed out and explained everything. "That's the restaurant, and that's Brand's house. He's my boyfriend, you know. Except he failed his driving test recently. Can you believe he failed his driving test? I mean, nobody fails their driving test..." This went on and on. And on. About Brand, I mean. Brand this, Brand that.

Finally I got fed up. It was after we'd arrived at her house and she was helping me unpack. Turns out I was going to sleep in the attic. I was perfectly fine with that. It was nice and cool in the attic, and I didn't have to share a room with anybody but the bats. To be honest, I don't mind bats whatsoever. I think they're cute. I don't see how other girls can be so repulsed by them. And hell, nobody would wake me up. That counts for something.

Anyway, I got tired of Andy's chatter. "You know what? Instead of telling me about how great Brand is, why don't I just knock on his door and see for myself?"

I thought Andy was going to just glare at me and leave, and I would have been fine with that. But of course, she didn't. She jumped and said, "Great idea!" Oh lord.

Brand's house was a few down. It was big and had a Victorian-look to it. The architecture was wonderful, and the color was a beautiful pastel green, nearly white. However, the whole picture was interrupted by an odd contraption beginning at the porch and ending at the front gate. Notice I didn't say, "the picture was ruined." The contraption certainly didn't ruin the scene, and, if anything, added to it. There were wires and balloons and targets and pulleys and other odd objects that made up the machine. And, out of the corner of my eye... "Is that a chicken!"

Andy laughed and nodded. "Yeah. Neat, isn't it? Brand's little brother and his friends made it. See, if you hit the chicken with that marble..." she pointed to a cup with a marble in it that was connected to the rest of the contraption with a wire, "she lays an egg, which lands on the balance, which activates the..." I tuned her out, looking at the machine, figuring things out by myself.

She tapped me on the shoulder a minute later. "Is this not totally amazing? I mean, kids made this! These kids can't be older than eleven, it's just...odd, isn't it?"

No, it wasn't. Not to me. Kids are smarter than most people give them credit for. When people get older, they forget what they were capable of as children. I never, ever want to let that go. For example, you remember reading Harry Potter for the first time, I'm sure. And thought, wow, that's one cool kid. I could do that. But once you've exhausted the series and go back to the first one at age 14 or so, you will gasp and choke at the fact that little Harry accomplished that much at 11. Maybe you don't think the same way I do, I don't know. Maybe you're 'normal.' I don't think like you.

So I just shrugged. "Hey, Andy, how do you let them know you're here?"

She looked at me funny. "You ring the bell, of course."

Before I could protest that the gate was firmly shut and could only open if a weight was put into a bucket on a pulley on the porch, she rang a bell that was hanging on the handle of the gate.

The screen door opened and a little fat boy stood looking out. I could see through the glass door in front of him that his getup was terribly mismatched. His pants were a vibrant green, and his shirt was patterned with alternating light and dark purple horizontal stripes, which made him look even fatter. I also noticed he was holding a pint of Ben and Jerry's Cherry Garcia ice cream.

I laughed. "Is that your boyfriend?"

"No, that's Chunk," Andy answered, obviously thinking my question was an honest one. "Chunk, let us in!"

Chunk turned around and said something so someone out of my range of sight.

"That can't be his real name," I said.

"Of course not, his real name is Lawrence."

"Lawrence! That's horrid."

"It is, isn't it?"

"'Chunk' is worse, though."

"True, his size draws enough attention as it is."

"Poor kid."

Chunk opened the door. "Brand says you can come in only if the sex kitten next to you is invited."

I heard a voice from inside shouting, "Shut up, Chunk! Mikey said that, not me!" And laughter.

I grinned uneasily and wondered if they were being serious.

"Hang on," said Chunk, and he dropped a bowling ball into the bucket.

Immediately the machine sprang to life. Things dropped, were catapulted, sprinklers started, the chicken began to fuss, things clanged, and the gate swung open. "Cool."

"Come on, Luna!" Andy grabbed my hand and raced into the house.

The inside was similar to the outside. Simple, classic, pretty. Well-put-together. Beautiful paintings graced the walls, and statues adorned the tables. If it wasn't for the popcorn spilled all over the floor, I wouldn't have guessed children lived here. That's probably one of the only predictable things about kids. They make messes and don't clean them up. Then again, I'm the same way.

I made my way around the living room, stopping to adore each work of art. Perfect, flawless, stunning. Except for...a statue of a Roman god, which was perfect in every way...except...wait a minute.

"Yeah, that's Mrs. Walsh's favorite piece," came a voice behind me. I turned around to see a kid in a leather jacket with hair that resembled Jesse's from Full House. It looked pretty funny on him, to tell the truth. Like he'd walked out of New York.

I pointed to a spot midway down the statue. "Who made this?"

"I did!" Chunk piped up.

"You didn't make the statue, you nimrod, but you did make it the way it is now!" said the Yankee boy. "See, this part..." he fingered the erect piece of stone, "came off. We tried to glue it back on, but we did it upside down. Mrs. Walsh actually likes it better now, though. It's more realistic."

"Viagra," I said, and the Yankee boy doubled over with laughter.

"Guys, this is my cousin," Andy said. I turned to see her sitting in an older boy's lap. I guess he was Brand. Personally he didn't really look like my type. Muscular, sweatband on his forehead, logo sweatshirt. "Her name is Luna."

"Aahhhh," purred the Yankee boy. "Pleased to meet you...Loony."

"That's Mouth," said Andy. "And this is Brand..." she motioned to the guy she was sitting on. "That's Mikey..." she pointed to another little boy on the couch with a strawberry blonde hair and braces whose eyes were fixated on a Rubik's cube, "And you've met Chunk already."

"Hey guess who's heeeeeere!" a high-pitched voice shouted from outside, and a tiny Asian kid burst through a side screen door. And I mean, BURST through it. Not opened it. Broke the screen as he came flying in. He crashed onto the floor. As he stood up and moaned a little, he said, "God, Mikey, how many times do I have to tell you to put pillows there, you never listen."

"How many times do I have to tell YOU, Data, use the door," Brand said in exasperation. "Mom's gonna be really pissed...she's gonna have to buy another screen. That's the third one this month, and if she doesn't make YOU pay out of the nose for it I'll kill myself."

"Anyway, Data, like I was saying, this is Luna, my cousin," Andy repeated.

"Hi," said the Asian kid absentmindedly. He hardly looked in my direction. He just ran over to Mikey. "Hey, Mikey, you'll never believe what I found. Guess. Come on, guess."

Mikey put down his Rubik's cube. "Um...a ten-dollar bill?"

Data shook his head. "Better." He couldn't say his "r's." It was quite amusing, actually, but I didn't say anything.

"A...monkey?"

"No."

"Leonardo DiCaprio?"

"A map, Mikey! I found a map!"

Suddenly everybody dropped what they were doing and gathered around Data and Mikey. I didn't have any idea what the hell was going on, so I just copied them...because kids know best.

"Hey, guys!" Chunk said. "This is like a Civil War map or something!"

"Damn," said Mouth. "This thing's older than my grandfather." He read the date on the bottom right hand corner of the map. "1861..."

"Hey, uh, Brand, could you move your head, please?" I said, as politely as I could. He still looked at me funny, but moved his head. I could now see the map. It was fairly yellowed, actually more of a brown than anything, but didn't look that fragile. Not like the stuff in museums. The paper was actually quite sturdy. There was a drawing of a coastline, but it wasn't a coastline I recognized. Then again, I wasn't on the east coast anymore. Obviously I didn't recognize the landmarks either.

But I did recognize the name at the bottom near the date. "Daniel Bradford?"

Daniel Bradford had been a Civil War general who dropped out after the first few battles. He was a rich man from the south, and immediately got tired of war. He left his troops hanging and went west to look for oil instead. He never came back. I'd never really thought much of it. Which is surprising, since I am fascinated by disappearances and other unexplained phenomena.

I explained this to everyone. As I spoke, their eyes got wider and wider.

"He made it all the way out here?" Mouth whispered. "God, Data, where did you get this?"

Data squirmed. "Um...internet?"

"No, seriously, Data. Where did you get it?"

"Ebay. Really."

"Really," said Brand. "So I guess if I went upstairs right now into our attic and looked around, I wouldn't find anything missing?"

Data looked terribly uncomfortable. "There's no need for that."

Mikey laughed. "Brand, you told me that was a mouse!"

Brand grinned. "I thought it was too, until I went upstairs and found a broken picture frame. I went back up later to clean up the broken glass, but it was gone."

"God, Data, you need to teach me how to sneak into houses like that!" Mouth remarked.

"Wait a minute, guys..." said Chunk suddenly. "This is a map of a coastline alright, but this place is a good hundred miles from here. My grandparents live in a city called Jajowe, because there was a tribe of Jajowe Indians living where the city stands today. See this dark area on the map? It's marked 'Jajowe Territory.'"

"How are we going to get THERE!" Mikey asked. "If it's so far away. Maybe if Brand hadn't failed his driver's test..."

"Lord, Mikey, now Luna knows too. Got to make sure everyone and their mother find out about that, don't you?"

"Wait a minute!" I said in surprise. "You're thinking of actually GOING there? What do you expect to find?"

"We don't know," said Mikey. "That's part of the treasure hunt, isn't it? I never expected to really find One-Eyed Willy."

"Who's that?" I asked.

"Mikey's boyfriend!" Mouth yelled.

"He is not!" Mikey retorted. "He's a pirate. And he's my friend. But you can't meet him, 'cause he's sailing the seas now."

To make a long story short, they told me their tale of how they had outsmarted the Fratellis, found pirate's treasure, and befriended a disfigured man by the name of Sloth.

"What happened to Sloth?" I asked.

"He lives at the hospital now," Chunk said sadly. "He can't really take care of himself."

"He's made a lot of progress, though," Andy told me. "He can speak in complete sentences now. It's a shame they kept him chained to the wall like a common animal."

I wanted to say that common animals should not be chained to the wall either, but I kept my mouth shut.

"Does this mean we're going, then?" Mikey asked, his eyes twinkling excitedly.

Brand sighed. "I don't know how we are going to get there..."

"On account of you failed your driver's test," Chunk put in.

"Shut up, Chunk." Brand put his arm around Andy's shoulders. "I don't know if we should. I mean, if we ask our parents, they'll obviously say no. Especially after what happened last time. I have no idea how to get out of Astoria."

"We can't walk a hundred miles," said Mouth. "And even if we could, it would take forever. The police would be after us in a matter of hours. We'd be home–and grounded–before you could say 'Jajowe.'"

Everyone put their heads down in thought. I felt out of place. I knew I wasn't going to be invited. But if I wasn't, I'd have to get involved and pretend I didn't know what was going on...either that, or report them to the authorities. So I just stood quietly and looked down like everyone else.

Suddenly Mikey spoke up. "Hey Brand, remember that thing we saw on the news last night? About the livestock train breaking down near our station?"

Brand nodded. "Where are you getting at?"

"If I remember correctly, the railway it was on goes right through Jajowe."

"A train, Brand!" Andy cried. "Could we take the train? We could get a car...all to ourselves..." She caressed his cheek. I turned away, disgusted. Pathetic. My own boyfriend back in Vermont would ask me if I was feeling ok if I ever did that to him. I could only imagine what Andy and Brand would do if they got a train car all to themselves.

"So are we going or what?" Data piped up.

Brand nodded. "Get your things, boys, we're going to Jajowe!"

That was fast. Leaving town just like that. No planning, anything. No problem, I love spontaneity. Or I would, if I was going.

Then, "Luna, are you coming?" It was Andy's voice.

"No way," said Mouth. "She'd slow us down. Girls slow us down."

"Oh, like Chunk doesn't?" came Data's voice.

"So I'm not invited either?" Andy asked.

"Of course you are," said Brand.

"Yeah, because she's your girlfriend," Mouth muttered. Apparently he had the same kind of feelings towards Andy as I did.

"If you leave me behind," I said tentatively, "I'll tell the sheriff." Ha, I had them cornered. They had no choice. It was mean, but clever. I expected to be bombarded with rude comments, or for everyone to stand there in shock, but Mouth burst out laughing.

"You really are loony," he said, "and know how to drive a bargain!"

"Thanks, I suppose."

"Ok," said Brand. "We'll meet back here in one hour, with backpacks. If anyone asks, we're going hiking, all right? Put whatever you think you'll need in your pack–clothes, nonperishables, sleeping bags, anything! Money would be great, if we end up not finding anything we need to find some way to pay a fare back to Astoria. Everybody out. My mom will be home in three hours, I want to be as far away as possible before then."


	2. Carrying Out the Plan

What if it is just a legend?

That was the thought that crossed my mind as I stuffed my backpack. Another voice in my head was telling me to trust the kids, but I couldn't help it. What if it was just a legend, and we were going on a wild goose chase?

Ever since I was little, I've wondered where that phrase came from. Maybe a kid told his friend to chase the geese as a distraction while the first kid planned some kind of surprise. I don't know. This really wasn't the time to be thinking about chasing geese.

I tried to be economical and bring pants. But looking through my suitcase I had only brought one pair of pants. Great, isn't it? I hardly ever wear pants. I shuddered at the thought of sneaking onto a livestock train in my satin black miniskirt. Urgh. Maybe I could borrow some of Andy's.

Andy was so skinny, though. I hoped she had sweatpants. Something with an elastic waist. I'm not fat, but I'm certainly not as skinny as Andy was. My waist is relatively small, but I have the biggest hips known to mankind. Some men love it, some hate it. Either way, I often get rude comments. Just the other day, some half-shaven jerk came up to me and said he wanted to squeeze my juicy...well, you get the idea.

I'm getting off track. Finally I just stole some pajama pants from my dad with a drawstring waist, threw in some soap, a hairbrush, and my Breath Mints of Love, and hurried downstairs.

I bumped into Mrs. Carmichael. Also known as Aunt Darlene. However, I refuse to call her that. She gets on my nerves worse than Andy does...I guess she means well, but she speaks to me in that high-pitched voice you get when you speak to small children. Small children hate it. You hate it even more at 16. "Where are you going, darling?"

"Um...um...er...hiking!"I stammered and hurried down the last few remaining stairs and out the door. "Andy's coming too!" I shouted behind me, so she too wouldn't get interrogated. I wondered if Mrs. Carmichael spoke to Andy that way, too. I don't know. I never talked to them both at the same time. In fact, I would live fine if I didn't have to talk to them at all.

I waited for Andy at the gate of her house. When she burst out of the door, I noticed she had applied a fresh coat of lipstick and her eyelashes were wet with mascara. Black, of course. I always thought that if you wanted to draw attention to your eyes, you should go crazy with color. So I wore electric purple mascara, to match my hair. Not now, of course. Which made me wonder why Andy had put on makeup if we were going to be boarding a livestock train. Is she trying to look good for the cows? I think cows will moo and nuzzle at anyone who looks remotely like they might have food.

We walked down to Brand's and Mikey's house. Not a word was exchanged between us. I could tell she was uncomfortable, afraid of the silence. But she still didn't say anything. Maybe she'd figured out I didn't really want to talk to her. People always tell me I don't talk much, assume that I'm shy.

I'm not shy. If I have something to say, I say it. To anyone who is willing to listen, and often to people who are not. The truth is, I can be talkative. I am perfectly capable of having a long, deep conversation with. It matters if the person I am talking to is worthy. That's just a fancy way of saying "it's a privilege if I feel like talking to you." It's simple. If I don't want to talk to you, I don't talk to you. If I want to talk to you, I do, and I don't give a damn whether you're listening to me or not.

Brand, Mikey, and Chunk were already waiting at his gate. Chunk took off his backpack, unzipped it, and pulled out a Three Musketeers. Upon closer inspection, almost his entire backpack was filled to the brim with randomized candy bars.

I was able to figure something out then and there. Not only was Chunk fat, but he was obviously getting fatter all the time.

"Data's in the house, and Mouth should be here any minute," Brand said simply.

Right on cue, Mouth dashed up the street, holding a beaten-up backpack.

Brand laughed. "That's the one I threw in the lake a few years back, isn't it?"

"And the one I threw up in," Mikey said.

"And the one that had the mirror for your mom in it, and I fell on it," Chunk added.

"Yeah," Mouth said dreamily. "Isn't it great? This is like, the Goonie backpack, or something."

"I'm not putting anything in it," I decided, "if Mikey got sick in it."

"That's probably a good idea," Mikey said, laughing. "You never know if Mouth washes that thing or not." He paused. "Did you?"

"Maybe," Mouth said defensively.

"Sorry guys!" came Data's voice, and he flew out the front door and almost tripped over his huge trench coat. "I had to find some new batteries for my Bully Blinders!"

"We're out of batteries!" called Brand.

"I know," Data replied, "So I got some from your walkman, and some more from your tape recorder, and so on. I have almost six!"

Brand grimaced and turned to me. "Do you know how much his stupid Bully Blinders suck the juice out of batteries!"

Truthfully, I didn't care, but I did want to know one thing: "What's a Bully Blinder?"

Mikey answered for me. "They're these really bright lights attached to Data's belt loops...they're supposed to shine in the eyes of a bully and blind them, obviously. Unfortunately they also blind anyone who happens to be in about a ten-mile radius!"

"He's got all these different little inventions strapped to his waist, or belt buckles, or somewhere," Andy explained. "I really don't know where he hides it all. Some of his inventions are pretty useful, though."

When Data had made his way through the various obstacles littering the front yard, Brand announced that it was time to go. He seemed to be the self-proclaimed boss of the whole program. Apparently he knew where he was going. I thought.

After about five minutes, we were off the pavement and onto gravelly roads in the woods. The gravelly roads gave way to dirt paths, then tiny trails, then every means of direction disappeared altogether.

Another five minutes passed, and Brand stopped.

"That's Brand's way of telling us that we're lost," Mikey explained to me.

"I am not," retorted Brand. "I'm just...catching a breather, is all."

"He's lost," repeated Mikey. "Data, do you happen to have a compass on you?"

"Hey!" snapped Brand, "I'm in charge here! Who do you think you are, giving orders? Data, do you have a compass?"

I stifled a laugh.

Data handed Brand a compass, which he extracted from somewhere within his huge trench coat. It was no wonder he could hold all of those gadgets at once. Data was tiny and frail-looking. The giant trench dwarfed his delicate features, it looked almost as if he was trying to appear older but was failing miserably. If anything, the trench made him look younger, or smaller at least. The trench seemed to be able to hold a lot of things in its many indoor pockets, though.

Brand squinted at the compass. "Er, Data, which way is north?"

"Brand, why couldn't we just take the road?" Andy inquired. "It wouldn't have taken so long, and we may have missed the train by now, we don't know when it's scheduled to leave."

"We might be close," said Brand. "I know where I am going, baby. It can't be much further."

"I wonder how many state borders we've crossed," Mouth complained. "My feet hurt like the devil."

A train whistle sounded. It echoed through the forest.

"It came from...that direction!" shouted Chunk, and began running towards the source of the noise as fast as he could. Which wasn't very fast. I'm not particularly fast myself, but I was able to beat Chunk to the train station.

If you could call it a train station. It wasn't much of anything, simply a platform with a small plexiglass shelter, a restroom (of which someone had humorously painted a crescent moon on the door) and a cabin which existed solely to house the lever that changed the direction of the track.

I could smell the livestock before I heard them. But as we drew closer, I could hear the brays of horses, the monotone moo-ing of the cows. And I could smell hay.

Most of the cars on the train were a dark red color. They were old-fashioned boxcars, true vintage, because the paint was chipping. There weren't many cars, only about 8 or so, but as we walked along the tracks to the back end of the train, the smell lessened. "Hey guys, these cars back here don't seem to be occupied."

Chunk and Mouth climbed up on the step of the second-to-last car and dragged the door open. "You're right, Loony," Mouth called. "Nothing in here but hay."

An angry squawk came from the car, and a couple of chickens flew out. Or, tried to fly. They were only able to stay airborne for a couple of seconds before falling to the ground again. They bounced in this way into the forest and out of sight.

"I stand corrected," Mouth said, looking stunned. "NOW there's nothing in here but hay."

"But I can't EAT hay," Chunk complained, taking a seat on a hay bale.

"You have a backpack full of candy bars, Chunk," Mikey remarked, climbing into the boxcar. "Why would you want to eat hay, anyway?"

"Did anyone bring any canned food?" Data called. "I wanted to try out my new Can Opener."

"I might have something in here somewhere, Data," said Andy, rummaging around in her backpack. "Aha, here we go!" She pulled out a can of spaghetti and threw it to Data. "Good luck." She walked out of sight.

"Hey Andy, where are you going?" Mikey asked.

"The big kids get a car all to themselves," Brand replied matter-of-factly. "You coming, Luna?"

"No, I'll stay here, thank you," I shouted back. I didn't have any desire to witness any, erm, activities Brand and Andy might have in mind.

"Why?" asked Mouth. "You'll miss all the tongue action. Don't you want tongue action, Loony?" He stuck out his tongue and put it near my face.

I put my hand over his face and shoved him backwards. Not roughly, just kind of like "go-away-Mouth-you-idiot" kind of shove.

"What, am I not good enough for you?" Mouth teased, looking hurt.

"More like, not old enough," I said. We hadn't even gotten anywhere, and already I was starting to have a good time. Maybe coming to Astoria wasn't a bad idea after all.

"What are you talking about?" Mikey asked. "It can't be THAT bad."

"How old do you think I AM?"

Mikey thought a moment. "Erm, twelve, thirteen at the most."

I jumped up in a moment of defiance. "I'm sixteen!"

"You're WHAT?" Mouth yelled.

"You're OLD!" That was Data.

"You're the same age as Brand," Mikey said thoughtfully. "Hey, can you drive?"

"Not legally," I said.

"Oh no, you didn't fail your driver's test, did you?" Chunk groaned.

I shook my head. "More like I haven't taken it yet."

"Dammit," Chunk said under his breath. "How are we supposed to get anywhere? All we have are a clumsy oaf, some other kids, and a couple of car invalids."

"Why insult yourself, Chunk?" laughed Mouth. "It's not good for your self-esteem to call yourself a clumsy oaf."

Chunk glared at Mouth. "I was talking about YOU."

I giggled. "Touche!"

"Hey guys, my Can Opener worked!" Data yelled from the corner of the boxcar, and stood up to show all of us his success, but slipped due to the sudden jostling of the train. It stalled a little, and then we began moving.

We were on our way.


	3. You Can't Make Me Forget

Chapter 3! Boy am I popping out chapters! Haha, me thinks I need to watcheth the movie again, just because I want to (and that movie love.) I've been reading some really good fanfictions about the Goonies, though some of them involve making out with the guys! It's pretty funny, because I didn't even know what making out was in sixth grade. (If I remember correctly, they are going into either sixth or seventh grade, either way, who makes out that young anyway? Kind of creepy, I think.) Oh well, I'm sure you all have had enough of my ramblings. Erg, my brother says his friends are starting to make out, he's going into sixth grade. I didn't make out with a guy until...ninth grade, I think. Still scary. Oh well. I should probably just shut up now.

"Data, you IDIOT!" Mouth yelled, standing up roughly from his hay bale and nearly overturning it.

"What did Data do?...Oh, S-H-I-T!"

I was suddenly aware of a sharp pain in the area around my collarbone. Oh god. Oh god, oh god, oh god, I could feel warmth. I could feel warm liquid. I could feel blood, my own blood, dripping down my shoulder. Oh my lord. I reached up and fingered the area. I found not skin, but a jagged tin pinwheel that felt like a ninja star.

Data's can opener.

Bleeding.

I was bleeding, and it was killing me.

I was going to die.

I was going to die here on the train and nobody would find my body and my parents would look for me and no one would ever know what happened. I was going to die and there was nothing anybody could do about it.

I was bleeding, and it was killing me.

"Oh my god!" yelled a voice from outside. Chunk. "She looks so terrible, maybe, maybe if I feed her something..." My vision was blurred, but I pictured him rummaging through his backpack and pulling out a Baby Ruth. I could see him cramming it into my mouth. I could see myself die anyway.

"Get Brand!" Mouth called. "Right NOW! Someone get Brand!"

I could feel myself falling off the hay bale. I was going to hit the ground and die. I waited to hit the ground. But I never did hit the ground, I simply kept falling and falling and dying and there was nothing I could do about any of it.

p i "The little one's alive." /i /p 

p i "And the parents: /i /p 

p i "The man made it, the woman didn't. Come on, little girl, let's go to the hospital." /i /p 

p i "Oh, Mildred, you can be more sympathetic than that. Let's go, sweetie. We're gonna go get you fixed up, ok? /i /p 

p i "But I can't leave Mama, you can't leave her here. She has to come too, you need to help her!" /i /p 

p i "Sweetie, you need to come, we're here to help you. You'll be fine as long as you come with us." /i /p 

p i "I'll be back, Mama. You'll see, and you'll be ok, and wake up, they can make you wake up, you can make Mama wake up, can't you? /i /p 

"She's coming about."

That was Brand's voice.

I wasn't dead. It didn't kill me, I didn't die.

I opened my eyes slowly. I was lying down on a hay bale. Someone had removed the can opener, because Data was standing there, looking shocked and a bit green, with the bloody piece of metal in his hand.

That blood was my blood.

I turned away, I was unable to look at it. I felt like if I saw my own blood I would spiral again, I would surely die this time. How did I know I wasn't dying right now?

"God, Luna, I thought you were having a seizure or something," Chunk said. "What happened?"

"She had a panic attack," Andy explained. "She'll be ok, it's all ok."

Brand went over to Data and held out his hand. "Give me the can opener."

Data just stood there, shaking and looking straight ahead.

"Can opener," Brand repeated, his voice shaking a little. "NOW."

Data gave him the piece of metal and collapsed onto another bale of hay, looking very much like he would pass out himself.

Brand pulled the door of the boxcar open and hurled the can opener as far as he could. He watched it until it was just a piece of shrapnel, then slammed the door shut and sat back down next to me, running his fingers through his hair. Andy rubbed his back soothingly, and his face relaxed a bit.

"Is she going to talk to us, or what?" Mouth asked, looking kind of annoyed now that the initial shock was over.

I sat up and propped my head against the rim of the window. I realized that someone had also ripped up bits of cloth from a piece of clothing and wrapped it around and under my arm as a tourniquet. Wait. That wasn't any piece of clothing.

"You used my velour pants?" I rasped. "Those were the only pair of pants I had!"

Mouth breathed out, looking a little guilty and relieved at the same time, but his quickly recovered and looked humorously tough-guy again. "Like we'd soak our own clothes!"

"Show's over," said Brand, standing up. "Everyone back to their respective boxcars."

"We are in our respective boxcar," Mouth told him.

"Er, right," said Brand. "I'll, uh, come on, Andy." So they left.

And I was left alone.

God, was I uncomfortable.

They were all looking at me. Except Data, who had his back turned and was facing the window on the other side of the train car.

I noticed Mikey hadn't said anything throughout the entire fiasco. I made my way to the hay bale upon which he was sitting. "Erm, Mikey?"

He turned away and said something inaudible.

"What?"

"Are you going to die?"

My blood chilled. "Why would you think that?"

"Because you were screaming, 'I'm going to die! It's going to kill me and there's nothing you can do about it!' You're not...are you?"

I sat still for a moment, thinking. "Well, Mikey, let me explain something to you. It's something I've had since I was very small, I am afraid of blood. Because when I was little, I..." I paused, not wanting to relive the moment, but I couldn't back out now. "My mother...was killed in a car crash. My father and I lived, but it was a while before the paramedics could get us out of the wreck. Initially my mother was still alive, but she bled to death. I watched her die. I watched her life pool beneath me, she was gone, it was just...I'm so afraid that..." I stopped talking, I was getting choked up.

For some reason, I turned around. All eyes were on me now, even Data's. "So that's why. Please, don't ask me about it anymore, ok?"

All were silent.

That is, until Chunk got off his hay bale and stood up. "I i really /i need to go to the bathroom."

Ahh, angst. So fun to write. And so hard to figure out what to do afterwards. I'll figure something out, I bet Data can figure out a way to use the bathroom in a train car. Hmmm. I wonder if the cows would mind if...


	4. Comforting Data and Bad Cow Humor

AUTHORS NOTE: Hey, my mom hogged the computer last night, and my dad was locked out of the bathroom this morning, and I slept in my bathing suit and we had a kind of joking row about it, so...yeah, I haven't had much time to work, and we're going to the museum...oh well. Trying to soften the mood by adding bits of light humour here and there. This chapter is going to be all cute and mushy. Not in a romantic sort of way, kind of brothers and sister fluff. I wonder how many people are going to get the wrong idea sweatdrop

"Um, Chunk, I don't think the cows would mind too much if you used their car," Mikey pointed out.

I was glad the mood was eased. One thing you have to love about kids is they can't stand a serious situation for too long. I remember getting really bored at my mother's funeral. I guess I didn't understand that I'd never see her again, I don't know. I just didn't have the mind set. I was simply tired of the minister talking. I couldn't understand half of the stuff he was saying anyway, I was too little. I just remember him saying how great a person she was, etc. I think they say stuff like that at everyone's funeral. I don't think ours was anything special. It was just another person dying to him, just another day at work. It made me kind of angry to think about it.

Anyway, it's hard for most kids to stay in a serious mind set for too long.

Except for Data, who was still huddled by the window. I crept over to him. "Data."

Mouth sighed. "What'd I tell you? She's a girl, so she just gets in the way."

"She's a hiserdance," Mikey agreed.

"I think you mean 'hindrance,' Mikey," I corrected.

"That's what I said."

I grinned and turned back to the little Asian boy, who continued to deliberately look out the window (and not at me). "Data?"

No reply.

"Data, talk to me, dammit!"

He shook his head and buried his face in a fold of his trenchcoat.

"Lord, everything's ok now, calm down, it wasn't your fault, you didn't do—oh, don't go CRYING on me!" He had started shaking, his frail body racked with silent sobs.

I felt kind of awkward, I never knew what to do or say during these kinds of situations. I'm not a good...comfort-er. And I didn't how to make him understand that it really wasn't his fault.

God, Mikey had said I had screamed something. I'd probably scared everyone. I wouldn't be surprised if everybody on this train thought I really u was /u loony.

I hoped the train was loud and my screams weren't heard by the conductor. Because unless he firmly believed in talking cows, he'd be stopping and checking things out. I could just see him sitting up there right now, shaking, saying "Damn cows are plotting against me."

Haha, cow humour.

"Data, please, just...you didn't do anything!"

His small whimpers were slightly audible now. "I..." he choked. "I didn't mean for anything to happen, Data think. Thought. Data thought...you were going to die..."

Oh my god, he thought he had killed me. That had to be stressful, especially for a kid.

"I'm fine, it wasn't your fault that happened, you know that."

I didn't know what to do at this point, I was out of things to say. So I just hugged him. I could feel lots of gadgets underneath the giant trench. This kid was brilliant. He was a creative genius.

He just went limp and let me hold him, just sobbing and sobbing, getting my clothes wet with tears, I didn't care.

I would make a terrible therapist. I am just a shoulder someone can cry on. I felt like telling him to go get Andy, she'd be better at this kind of thing, she was more passionate, more adequate.

But I also realized I didn't want him to let go. I needed him to be there. I felt like someone was comforting me, it was reassuring to have someone among the living so close, like this little boy would protect me from dying.

Kind of like my mom used to do.

I don't remember any actual situations in which she held me like this, but I can remember the feeling that came with it. Like everything would be ok, nothing could ever hurt me. Maybe they were real memories, maybe they weren't. I didn't care, it made me feel loved. It made me feel like I mattered to someone.

Like I mattered to someone.

I mattered.

Right now I mattered to Data, and he mattered to me.

Suddenly I could feel another body up against me and Data. I stared into Mikey's eyes, and didn't say anything. But I was silently thanking him, thanking him for taking the pressure off of me, thanking him for the extra presence.

Mouth came over too.

Then Data whispered, "I'm crying...because I lost my can opener."

I laughed quietly. "You're terrible!" As I have stated time and time again, I love kids.

The back door of the boxcar opened and closed, and Chunk came in. I turned to look at him, and he looked back at me, with a shocked look on his face.

"What the hell is going on here?" he muttered. "Ah, forget it, I'm going to Andy and Brand's boxcar. Nobody's crying in there."

A muffled voice came out of the pile of little boys. It was nearly inaudible, but sounded suspiciously like, "Shut up, Chunk." I couldn't tell who it came from.

He peeked into the adjacent boxcar, the quickly shut the door, yelling, "I'll leave you two alone!" He wiped his brow, then said dramatically, "I'm going back to the cows." He left the boxcar again, and I left the world of consciousness. This time, though, I didn't leave screaming in panic. I left in a kind of euphoric peace of mind.

"Hey, Loony, wake up!"

I didn't want to wake up.

"Loony!"

Ha, I'd make him work for it.

"Loony!" Something hit me in the face, and I smelled the trademark aroma of locker room after Phys Ed.

I tossed the garment off of my face and fell off of my hay bale, tossing Mikey and Data with me. They lay sprawled on the floor, looking confused at one another.

"MOUTH! What WAS that!"

Mouth laughed. "That was Chunk's jacket. I had to get you to wake up somehow."

"That smells terrible," I said, wincing. "Tell Chunk to wash his jacket every now and again."

Mouth grinned and bounced over to the door of the boxcar that led to Andy and Brand. "Hey guuuuuys, it's time to WAKE UP!"

I took this opportunity in which he had his back to me to run over to him and kick him in the shin. I turned around, his face contorted into a grimace of pain. "What...was that...for?"

"For waking me up," I said simply.

"I'll keep that in mind," said Mikey, laughing.

"AUGH!" came a scream from the cow boxcar on the other side of ours.

"Oh goodness, it's Chunk," said Data, looking annoyed and picking himself up from the floor. "Go see what it is, Luna, please."

I stretched and threw open the door to the other boxcar. Chunk was hopping around, grabbing at the seat of his pants, which were seemingly being attacked by a pair of plastic chompers.

Brand and Andy chose that moment to emerge. "Oh my GOD, Chunk, why are the Pinchers of Peril attacking your ass!" Brand shouted. Andy was doubled over with laughter.

"It's not funny, guys, get 'em off me!" Chunk yelled. "I can't reach!" Apparently his posterior was too big and he couldn't reach the place where the Pinchers of Peril had gotten their grip.

"Great job, Double-O-Negative! Get 'em off me!" Chunk yelled again.

"I'm James Bond 007!" said Data angrily.

"Data, please..." Andy gasped, tears streaming down her face. "Take them off."

Data grumbled, but grabbed Chunk and opened the jaws.

Everyone collapsed on the floor in helpless, breathless laughter, except for Chunk, whose face was red and possessed a very indignant expression.

After about a minute, Mouth gasped, "What...were you doing with the Pinchers of Peril, anyway, Chunk?"

"Well, see, I was bored, all you guys were sleeping, so I decided it would be fun to torture the cows in the other car," he explained. "So I stole Data's Pinchers and used it to attack their tails."

"You still didn't answer my question," Brand said. "How did you manage to get the Pinchers of Peril stuck on your ass?"

"Um, guys," Mouth interrupted. "I woke you all up for a REASON."

We all looked at him inquiringly.

He looked back at us.

After about ten seconds of looking at one another, Mikey said, "So tell us the reason!"

"I saw a Jajowe sign."

"And?"

"50 miles to Jajowe territory."

Everyone groaned. "You woke me up for THAT?" Mikey asked.

"You threw a sweaty gym garment at me for THAT?"

"You interrupted our...never mind," Brand stopped himself, turning red.

"They took so long because they had to get their clothes back on," Mouth decided.

"Why you little..." Brand flew at Mouth, and wrestled in the hay.

After about a minute, Brand stood up. "I got you back."

Mouth looked confused. "But...you didn't even TRY to hurt me."

Brand laughed. "Think again. Look at your hair."

Mouth gasped and felt his hair. It was full of hay. "Now look what you did!"

The train slowed.

"We're stopping!" shouted Andy.

"But the sign said it was another 50 miles!" argued Data.

"It's getting dark," Brand pointed out.

The engine gave out, and we screeched to a halt. "Oh no," I said. "Do you think maybe...the conductor will come back here?"

"Why would he do that?" Mouth asked, picking bits of hay out of his hair.

"To feed the cows," I reminded him. "If the conductor is leaving the train for the night, he'll have to feed the cows, you know."

Brand's face fell. "Aw, shit! Where are we gonna go?"

I thought fast. "He'll probably get one hay bale per boxcar so he won't clean out this car. This car is closer to him than Brand and Andy's car. Everyone get into Brand and Andy's boxcar and hide behind the biggest stack of hay bales you can find. Don't leave anything in here. Chunk, pick up your candy wrappers, please."

"Are we gonna get caught, Luna?" Mikey asked.

"I hope not," I said truthfully. But what if he didn't take the hay from our boxcar? What if he did end up coming back here? We would hide, that's what. We won't get caught.

I hoped nobody would sneeze.


	5. More Stupid Cow Problems

Author's Note: I was wondering what would be the least cliche out of these...

-Them almost getting caught, it being really, really close

-Them actually getting caught

-Or them hiding in the correct car and not being caught at all

So I made up one of my own! How very special of me. Well, onto the story.

We waited in Andy and Brand's boxcar for a good thirty minutes before we realized nothing was going to happen, we were safe, the conductor was gone, etc.

"Everyone out," Brand called. I stood up from my rather uncomfortable crouching position and stretched my limbs, each one cracking in turn.

"Oh, that's so disgusting, I may lose my appetite!" Chunk said.

"Sorry."

"Did the guy like feed the cows at all?" Andy asked, appalled.

"I don't know," I said. "Let's check the boxcar." I crept through the door that connected the adjoining boxcars and started. "All the hay bales are still there, he didn't feed the cows."

Mouth tapped Chunk on the shoulder. "Hey, how much hay was in there?"

"Enough to cover the floor," Chunk told him. "I don't think they'd want to eat it though..."

"I'm gonna go feed the cows," I said. I pulled on my pants, one leg was noticeably shorter than the other. I would hurt whoever decided to use MY pants as a tourniquet. But I was thankful, too. That someone actually knew what to do. I wondered who it was, but I suppose I didn't care enough to ask.

"Me, too," said Mikey, and he followed me into the boxcar. Mouth and Data followed. "You may want to take off your trenchcoat, Data," I pointed out. He pulled off the trenchcoat and threw it on the ground. It landed with a metallic sound and lay in a lumpy heap. I wondered what it concealed.

It was very dark outside, and even darker in our boxcar. There was a light on the back of the train, so Brand and Andy's boxcar had a little bit of light, but ours was almost completely dark, once you closed the doors. I did, however, notice that we had stopped at a small station and that there was a floodlight with an on/off switch. I pulled it, and the area around the train was flooded with light. I guess that's why they call it a floodlight.

I walked up and down the train, counting the cars to the engine. "Five cars!" I called. "That means five hay bales! Everyone get one bale, the first one to come back gets the last one. Spread some around in each car, but leave most of it in the bale for them to eat." I climbed up in our boxcar and lifted a bale. It was heavier than I'd expected. I was able to hold onto it by some elastic bands holding it together like giant rubber bands.

And I lugged it down to the car closest to the engine.

"Don't strain yourself!" Brand called.

"I'm ok!" I yelled back, and hefted the bale upon the step of the boxcar. I could hear some frantic moo-ing. When I threw open the door, the smell of cows hit me in the face. Ugh. It brought back memories of when I went to a farm for a field trip in kindergarten, and I had to leave the barn, because the smell was just so overpowering. This wasn't as bad because there were a lot less cows...you would have thought that it would have been worse because they were in a small, enclosed space, but I wasn't complaining. Getting inside the car, I strained to get the bale up with me. Finally I got it and covered the ground with some hay, covering excretion. Disgusting. I wished the conductor would take better care of his passengers. Though I wouldn't go as far as cleaning out their boxcars.

I was very happy when I slammed the door to the boxcar. At least the cows hadn't gotten in my way, they had all just stood to the side, moo-ing and looking clueless. Actually, cows don't go 'moo.' They make more of a nasally moaning sound. It's quite humourous, actually, once you think about it.

I made my way back to our original boxcar, and five bales were gone. There were still a large number left to sleep on, though, and I was glad for that. I was prepared to go into Brand and Andy's boxcar to get some more, but I really, really didn't want to go in there. I guess I didn't know what I might find.

I did, however, find Chunk sitting on a bale in our boxcar, breathing hard. "I carried a hay bale," he said proudly.

"Yeah, how many times did you drop it?" asked Mouth, laughing.

"Only four," Chunk said defensively.

"It's a good thing that hay bales aren't breakable," said Mikey.

I sat down next to Chunk. "You know what, Chunk?"

"What?"

"I hate cows."

I had nearly drifted off, when I remembered something. "Oh lord, I left the floodlight on!" I crept outside, almost stepping on Mouth's sleeping figure. "Get off the floor, Mouth," I whispered for no absolute reason. Data, Mikey, and Chunk were playing cards in the corner using a flashlight.

As I neared the floodlight, I thought I could see a moving figure off near the engine. I froze in my tracks, which was stupid. I was almost directly underneath the floodlight and whoever it was could see me in plain view. As I froze, the figure froze too. I noticed, though, that it looked like a square with legs. No arms, no visible head...but it was definitely moving.

Oh lord. No. Way.

I yelled "HEY!" and the figure turned around. I could see it from the side. It looked like a table. My suspicions were confirmed.

I looked the train up and down, and found what I was looking for. The third boxcar from the engine...its door was open.

"Who delivered to the third boxcar from the engine?" I shouted, bursting back into our boxcar. Mikey, Data, and Chunk just glared at me. Mouth flopped on the floor like a fish out of water, hitting his head on the ground. "Ow...pain...there's probably a law against that kind of harassment, you know."

"There's probably a law against throwing Chunk's gym clothes in people's faces," said Mikey.

"I'm not kidding!" I said loudly. "Whoever fed the cows in the third boxcar from the engine left the door open!"

Even though Mouth had just woken up and his eyes were glassy, he still looked sheepish. "Mouth, you IDIOT! The cows are LOOSE!"

"Go to sleep, Loony, they're just cows," he said.

"But...they..."

"Go to SLEEP, Loony," he said firmly. "I don't care if the cows got loose...everyone just...go to bed. Please. Go. To. Bed."

"Someone got up on the wrong side of the floor," muttered Chunk.

"Isn't anyone going to help me?"

"Round up the cows, Luna?" asked Mikey. "I don't think so, they may have gotten pretty far. I am not going out at night in a forest I've never been in to look for a couple of lost cows that don't mean shit to me. Sorry, you're on your own."

I was desperate. If they found that cows had escaped, they might suspect something and come looking and find us and...maybe I was overreacting. I did that a lot. Then again... "Data?"

Data was asleep.

I sighed and sat down on a hay bale, defeated. I would go to sleep. But if anything happened, it would be Mouth's fault.

As I drifted off, I thought how I didn't want to come to Astoria. I had never expected an adventure. I'd never expected to meet guys like this, or find a treasure map, or be stuck on a train with misbehaving cows.

God, my dreams are going to be infested with cows tonight, I know it.


	6. Suspicions Mount

Author's Note: Bloody cows. They're just taking up all the attention, aren't they? Well, let's put some focus back on the actual characters, shall we? And don't worry, feeding the cows IS significant. Even though it may not seem like it.

I awoke to the sun streaming in on my face. I blinked, confused. I hadn't slept in a position in which the sun could get to me through any of the windows.

"Rise and shine, kiddies!"

Kiddies!

"Brand..." I groaned. "Get out! Go back to your own car."

"Brand?" asked the voice, startled. "You mean, there's a more of ya?"

I guess I should have been suspicious that something was going on by now. For one thing, Brand didn't have a Southern accent. But I was still groggy and waking up, so I said, "Mm-hmm, did someone leave?"

"Luna, wake up, you idiot!" came Mouth's voice. I looked up and faced the sun. I couldn't see anything for a moment. But when my eyes adjusted, I found that I was staring out the door of the boxcar at a young man in his twenties, with muscular arms and a rather stupid-looking goatee. He was wearing a plaid shirt and pinstriped boxers. He would have been rather attractive if it wasn't for the goatee and his eyes, which were dull and watery and made him look kind of clueless.

And he had Mouth in a headlock.

"What is going ON?" I said, sitting up and hitting my head on a windowsill. "Ow!"

Mystery Man laughed. "Haha, girly. What are you doin' on ma train?"

"Erm..." I couldn't think fast enough, my brain was frozen.

"Yer on the run, aren't ya?" asked Mystery Man. "From the law, aren't ya? Aren't ya?"

Before I could say anything at all, he just chuckled deeply. "I won't tell anyone, no sir-ee, Bob."

"Her name is Luna," said Mouth angrily. "The only person who can call her anything other than that is me. And you got a banjo with that accent?"

"Ya'll got some spunk. Tellin' me off like you do. I oughta throw you in with the cows."

I was struck. "The cows..."

Mystery Man nodded. "Darn tootin'. I noticed sum'n was wrong...I saw a cow up the tracks 'bout 10 miles or so, got out, saw that one of the boxcar doors was open, so I concluded that maybe sum'n might be on the train."

I left the door open. I should have closed it. Not like that would have done anything, but maybe he would have thought it was a coincidence, you know? No, probably not.

He seemed to remember he had Mouth in a headlock, and released him suddenly. "So you whelps are runnin' from the law, eh? Whatcha do? Steal somethin'? Vandalism?" He got in real close to my face. "Kill sum'n?"

"Um...sure," I said. "We, uh, defaced some property..."

"Oh really?" Mystery Man leaned in close again. "What'd you deface?"

"A..." I thought for a moment, the looked at Mouth.

"We defaced a restaurant," he said, proudly, without stumbling. "Spray-painted the windows black, crammed bubble gum in the keyhole of the doorknob so they couldn't get in, and paintballed the outside walls. That was, after we stole all of the ice cream and cake in the refrigerator."

Good one, Mouth. It was surprisingly believable, partly just because of the way he said it.

"Naughty young'ns..." drawled Mystery Man. "Now, uh, what did you say your name was? Luna, was it?"

I shook my head. "No, that's just my nickname. My real name is Colleen." God I hated that name. Why did that have to be the first thing to come into my head? If I was to have a fake identity I would at least have liked my name to be something cool. Something foreign-sounding. Leilani, maybe. Or Liesel.

Mouth glared at me, apparently he didn't like it either.

"I'm Grover," said Mystery Man/Grover. It was fitting, really. I don't know why. He just looked so unintelligent and mismatched, the name seemed to fit well.

"Anyway," Grover continued. "Did you say there were more of you?"

I shook my head. "No more, just us."

"Come on, I heard you say somethin' about Brand. Who's this Brand? Is he behind one of these haystacks here? I bet he is..." Grover climbed into the boxcar and peeked behind one of the piles of haybales. "Aha!" He dragged Data out by his trenchcoat. "I found you, Brand!"

"I am not Brand!" Data said indignantly. "I am Data!"

Well, I guess it was ok for the Goonies themselves to go by their nicknames. They couldn't be used. They didn't mean anything to the police. I would think.

"There's even more?" Grover asked, dropping Data and looking shocked. "How many young'ns do you have in my train, missy?"

"There are seven of us, mister, and we're going to tie you up and take control of this train if you don't get us to Jajowe right...NOW!" Mikey said, jumping out from behind another stack.

"Yeah, thanks, Mikey," Mouth mumbled.

"Mikey, can I talk to you for a minute?" I asked him. Before he could answer I ran around the hay bale and whispered in his ear, "Your name is Benjamin." I didn't explain, I hoped I didn't need to.

I raced back out front. "I guess you can all come out now, then. Chunk? i Benjamin /i ?" I put particular stress on the second name. I hoped Mikey was smarter than Mouth or Chunk.

Grover looked confused. "But where are the other two?"

"They're in the other car," I said. "I'll get them." And before he could protest, I flung open the door and ran into Brand and Andy's boxcar. "Guys, we've been caught."

"Caught?" Brand jolted upright. "By the police?"

"No, by the train conductor. He thinks we're on the run from the law. He isn't telling anyone. Call everyone by their nicknames. My name is Colleen, and Mikey's is Benjamin."

"Can Brand and I be married?" Andy asked, looking excited.

"Um, er, um, SURE!" I burst out. "I don't care, just pick out first names, that's all that's important."

"Joshua."

"Cleopatra."

"Andy! Cleopatra? That's not believable! Come on, um..." I thought for a moment. "How about Jennifer?"

"It's ok."

"Andy this is not the time to be picky, your name is Jennifer! Now come on out before he gets suspicious!"

I let them out, apologizing for taking so long. "I had to wake them up, you see."

"I'm Jennifer, and this is my husband Joshua."

Grover squinted. "Er...right. Look, I'm behind schedule and missing four cows. I'll give ya'll a lift to Jajowe, but that's it, ok? Then yer on yer own."

"Thank you so much, mister," Mikey said. "That's all we need, believe me."

Grover's eyes widened a bit, then went back to their normal, watery selves. "Just out of curiosity, why're you folks headed to Jajowe?"

"We never said we were going to Jajowe, we said we were happy you were giving us a ride there," said Brand coldly.

"Oh, sorry, just...a little paranoid, I reckon," said Grover, wiping his brow, though the air was rather cold. "See, I'm looking for someone, and I just thought..." he paused.

"Who are you looking for?" Chunk asked. "My grandparents live in Jajowe, maybe I can help you, I know lots of the townsfolk."

"I don't guess you know of Daniel Bradford, then?"

I gasped, as did Andy, Brand, and Mikey.

Grover noticed. "Aw, no, you don't know him," he said quickly. "He ain't around these parts no more, I'm just...looking up on his family, you know? You didn't hear anything." He said this last sentence without the Southern accent. Looking a bit shocked, he shut the door of the boxcar and walked back down to the engine. But not before turning around and shouting again with the accent this time, "Ya'll didn't hear nothin,' ya hear?"

"Was he drunk?" Mikey asked.

Brand laughed uneasily. "I don't know, maybe. Let's hope not, he's driving our train."

We started moving again, and the younger boys started dancing about, Andy joining them in the middle. They were singing a song that was comprised mostly of the words "On the road again, we're on the road again, we're going to..." and then they all shouted, "Jajowe!"

I sat down on the ground and looked at Brand. He looked back and I could see worry in his eyes. He was thinking the same thing that I was, I suppose. Did we have some competition? Was this guy going to be a danger to our adventure? Were we safe with him?

I really had no choice to be satisfied with the good luck we'd had so far and see what happens. I just couldn't shake the feeling that this guy would spell bad news for us later.


	7. Two Types of Ghosts

Author's Note: Just a couple more hours of cows, I PROMISE. I would love to get more reviews, so readers, please spam people advertising this story I never get any reviews...I have two. For this story, anyway. It really, really, really sucks. Don't worry, though, I won't stop putting up chapters if I don't get reviews. But they'd be great anyway. Oh fine, I'll quit bugging you. By the way, I corrected the glitch in Chapter 1. Fangs to Pal101 for pointing it out to me, that kind of messed up the story Love you. Oh well, onto chapter 7.

The boys danced into the other car, Andy with them. There were less hay bales in there, so it made it easier to move and dance around. I was alone with Brand, and I could tell him my suspicions.

"Why is everyone else so oblivious?" he asked before I could say anything.

"I agree," I said. "It would have been odd anyway if he had been going after the same thing as we are, but...just the way he had to clarify that we weren't supposed to know..."

"He dropped his accent for a moment."

"I know."

"I...I just have a really bad feeling about this, Luna. I don't know about you, but I'm going to hang about in the train station for a while in Jajowe to make sure he leaves. I really don't think he's good news."

"Which brings me to the question of how we are going to get out of the train. I think people will notice and get ideas if they see us spontaneously climb out of a boxcar. Remember we aren't supposed to be here."

"What's all this about breaking the law?"

"Yeah, he thinks we're hiding from the law, that we defaced a restaurant. We spray painted the windows, messed up the lock, and stole stuff from the refrigerator."

"No we didn't."

I glared at him. Honestly, guys can be so dim. "No, Brand. That's what i he /i thinks."

"Oh."

"Now remember, my name is Colleen. Mikey is Benjamin, Andy is Jennifer, and you are?"

"Joshua."

"Right. We use those names in town. If, for some reason, we have to stay the night somewhere, perhaps a youth hostel, we use those names."

"Ok."

"Could you maybe give me something other than one-word answers?"

"Ok."

I sighed. His brain had turned off, I think. He was acting so knowledgeable a moment ago. I love kids, but the problem with jocks...

The door opened back up again, and in came Andy and the boys. "I just saw a sign!" Mouth said excitedly. "Only 25 miles to Jajowe!"

"This train moves slowly," I observed. I realized I could no longer smell the cows. I had gotten used to them. I probably smelled like cows now. Urgh.

"Yeah, it'll probably be like another hour or so before we get there," said Andy. "What to do for an hour?"

"Mikey, tell a ghost story!" Mouth yelled.

"Yeah, Mikey, tell the one about the brackets!" Chunk told him.

"Now?" Mikey asked, looking confused. "It's not even dark..."

"Please, Mikey?" Andy begged, widening her eyes so she looked sad and innocent.

Mikey grinned and gave in. "Ok, not too long ago, in a village in Kansas..."

I let my muscles relax. Maybe my worries were empty. Maybe everything would turn out ok, I was impressed we'd made it this far. It was time to have some fun, just...kick back, so to say. Which would be fairly easy to some people. But I tend to dwell on things. Sometimes it's a bad thing, I have a tendency to remember every little detail of everything unpleasant that has ever happened to me. But for some reason, I don't remember much about the crash. Some shrinks told me I was too young, and that's why I don't remember. Don't tell me that, I remember things from before then. I think that I pushed it from my mind, and I have just been doing it for so many years it has become unconscious, and I can keep it away without thinking. However, when I am sleeping, it all comes back. I'll have dreams about it. I'll wake up, and remember my dream for a moment, then it simply fades away. I don't know whether that's because my subconscious is giving way to awareness, or maybe I'm willing it away. It's not something I normally like to think about, only when I have too much time on my hands.

Which is why I need to always stay busy. If I start thinking too much and too hard about that, I have a tendency to hurt myself. No, I don't slit my wrists, that's too cliche. And easy to spot. I actually have a heavily scarred area around my hipbone. You could wear a freaking bathing suit and no one would notice, I don't think anyone knows about it at all, except for me. For some reason, when I cut myself, the blood didn't bother me. Maybe it was because I had brought it upon myself, I may have thought that I had control. And it was true, I had control of my own suffering, I could make it stop when I wanted to. And that fact scared me pretty bad, nearly just as much as the blood would have.

Damn, I am one messed up person. I shouldn't let kids hang out with me. I might send negative subliminal messages, haha. But I am also selfish and love them too much.

I also love ghost stories. They are like a light in a tunnel built of romance books. Once, when I was about eight or so and in bed with my stepmom, I read her book over her shoulder. i The kiss was long and passionate. /i Gag. She likes to read these thick books that consist of three or four stories of a certain theme. Examples of the some of the themes include: Christmas Romance, Cat Romance, Foreign Romance...you get the picture. Never "Robots in Love" or "Space Honeymoon" or "Loch Ness Weddings." Romance stories are actually okay if you combine them with other genres, preferably fantasy or science fiction. But hey, that's just me. I'm also partial to adventure stories. Maybe I should turn this into a story. 'My Adventures on the Cow Express.' Haha, fascinating. New York Times bestseller.

Ack, my mind works in funny ways. The nub and gist of it is that I prefer ghost stories over romance. And I was all ears to Mikey.

MIKEY'S GHOST STORY

Not too long ago, in a village in Kansas, there lived a widow and her daughter in an old house. Many years earlier, her husband had hung himself from a lantern bracket near the porch. Time passed, the widow slowly got over the death of her husband, but many of her neighbors thought that she was mad, because she claimed that her husband still visited her at random intervals. She said that he'd come, they'd talk, he'd apologize for leaving her and his daughter, and he'd simply fade away.

When the widow passed away, her daughter moved in with her fiancee and sold the house. A young couple, fresh out of college, moved in. But not before they were warned that the house was a kind of 'vacation home' for her dead father. They paid no heed, as they were skeptics to the paranormal, and it didn't stop them from setting up.

One night, the young woman that lived in the house ran into her husband's room, claiming that there was another man in her room. Her husband got out a handgun and slowly crept into her room. There was indeed a man standing there, who appeared perfectly solid. However, after saying, "Take down the lantern bracket before July the 4th," he disappeared. The couple was baffled, but the young woman refused to be shaken. She had convinced herself that someone was trying to scare her using clever mirror tricks, and moved her room.

A number of nights later, the man appeared in the husband's room. He said the same warning. "Take down the lantern bracket before July the 4th."

The next day, the young couple went outside to inspect the lantern bracket. It was quite attractive and added a quaint flair to the house. They decided to keep it, still refusing to believe anything.

This happened to each of them once more, and they did not heed the warning, whether the message did not sound urgent or they just refused to let themselves believe in the ghost in the house. But July the 4th came, and like many young couples, went to the park, found themselves a bench, and sat down to watch the fireworks.

Meanwhile, their elder next-door neighbors had a fight, and in a fit of rage, the old man threw a chair at his wife and it struck her in the head. It broke her neck and she died almost instantly. The man, afraid to get in trouble with the law (he firmly believed seniors should live out their last years in comfort), quickly came up with a cover-up plan and carried it out.

When the couple came home, they were horrified. Their picturesque, beautiful home was ruined by the sight of their next door neighbor, hanging by a noose from their lantern bracket.

"Well, that killed twenty minutes," Andy sighed. "That was morbid, Mikey."

"You asked for it," Mikey said.

"Did not."

"Did too," said Chunk, putting on a high-pitched voice and widening his eyes. (On Andy it might make her look cute and innocent, but it was rather scary when Chunk did it). "Oh please, Mikey, tell us a ghost story!"

"Shut up, Chunk," muttered Andy good-naturedly.

"I've heard that one before, Mikey," Data complained.

"No, you haven't."

"Have too, remember when we all went camping, and we were around the campfire?"

"Oh yeah," said Mikey. "That's the time when I found that arrowhead, and took it to the museum, and they told me it was ausintic."

"I think you mean i authentic /i , Mikey."

"That's what I said, don't contradict me, you always contradict me, Brand. I was right."

I smiled and breathed in the cool air. I was really happy, really, truly happy. And that was the best feeling in the world.

I wondered how long that would last.


	8. Transition

Author's Note: Haha, ONWARD! Forty miles and counting to Jajowe...almost there, guys. I've noticed...I'm being oddly nice to my characters. Seven chapters in and there has been only one traumatic and/or injury-causing incident. And hardly any blood to be found. What has happened to me? Am I becoming less sadistic! Oh no, now I have scared myself. Bloody hell, I need to make a character BLEED! I need to cause a deep flesh wound! Preferably a stab wound! Because guns are bad. I will need to pull my arm trick again. I hardly ever injure legs, because I don't want to hinder the movement of my characters TOO much. Meh. Oh well, maybe I have taken a turn. I hope not, it will ruin my trademark characters-in-agony sequence. I need more bad things to happen.

I wondered what Mr. and Mrs. Carmichael were doing right now. Probably sending out search parties, alerting the police, et cetera. Scouring the woods. They wouldn't come looking this far, I would think. Unless they had come to the conclusion that we had gotten kidnapped, they would pretty much stick to a twenty mile or so vicinity. They'd simply think we'd all gotten lost in the woods.

Then there was the case of Mr. and Mrs. Walsh, Mikey and Brand's parents. They were more likely to have gotten the idea that their sons were on an adventure. And they would inevitably tell the other parents, and the vicinity would be widened. However, I don't think anyone would suspect that we had gotten on a livestock train, of all things.

I wondered if anyone had alerted my dad and stepmom.

Everyone would probably get grounded when we got back. For the rest of their lives. A little voice in my head was saying, 'run, run forever!' I'd always wondered what it would be like to do something like this. It reminded me of all the adventure or escape stories I'd read. Like The Count of Monte Cristo or The Transall Saga. Walkabout. They all had interesting predicaments and ways of surviving, escaping, and getting around, but none of THEM had gone on a livestock train. This was a unique way of traveling.

But we weren't just traveling to travel, or survive. We were after something! We were going to find Daniel Bradford in all his corpse glory! I hoped. Part of me still hoped, though, that we wouldn't. I hoped we'd find his tomb, and some precious artifacts and perhaps even oil, but not the corpse. I didn't want to see it.

"Hey guys?" I called. "Did you see any corpses on your last adventure, besides the one of One-Eyed Willy?"

"Of course, they were everywhere!" Mouth said menacingly. "Staring at you with their empty sockets, reaching for you with their bony hands, rotten flesh dripping off of their–"

"Stop it, Mouth," said Mikey. "Yes, there were...too many. Chester Copperpot, then numerous men on the pirate ship."

"Oh, I hope we don't see any on this adventure," Data said, shuddering. "Data is SICK of coming face to face with dead people!"

"Don't forget the one I was stuck in the freezer with!" Chunk piped up.

Mouth laughed. "Yeah, we accidentally closed Chunk in the freezer with a stiff."

"He's the one who went in," said Andy. "He opened it."

"They had ice cream," Chunk said defensively.

We all laughed at that.

"Why do you ask?" questioned Brand.

"Eh, nothing, just...don't want to see one."

"Oooh, Loony, afraid of dead people!" Mouth tormented. He stuck out his arms and rolled his eyes back up in his head, walking towards me, moaning.

"Oh yeah?" I asked. "Get a load of THIS!" And I used my fingers to arch my eyebrows and hide my irises so you could see the whites and blood vessels in my eyes.

Mouth leapt backwards. "Ok, you beat me."

Twenty minutes of scattered chatter went by, and everyone, including me, was beginning to get restless. I fidgeted and squirmed on my hay bale, eager to get out of the musty train car. I was surprised I hadn't had to go to the bathroom, and I was glad. I did not want to use the cow's car. Besides, every time I read an adventure story, I always wondered what the people used for toilet paper. But I wasn't really in the mood to think about that right now. I was in the mood to get out of the train.

We'd been lucky, though. It was very convenient for us that the train happened to be leaving on the very day that we found the map. In fact, if I wasn't aware that it has no significance to our story, I would say it was TOO convenient. But that's what went through my head.

God, I was so bored. I was in the mood where you had nothing to do, but you really didn't want to do anything, you just simply did not have the energy. I suppose that I could have struck up a conversation with someone in the train car, or ask someone to relive their last adventure for me in more detail, but I just...didn't. I decided to go to sleep, because there was nothing better to do. I noticed I'd been sleeping a lot lately. Probably because there really wasn't much to do in a boxcar full of hay. You couldn't run around and play hide-and-seek, there wasn't any electricity, nothing to play or fiddle with except for hay.

Now I fall asleep pretty quickly, especially since everyone was being fairly quiet and absorbed in their own thoughts and anticipation. So naturally, I had drifted off in no more than three minutes. I don't know how long I was asleep though, not very long, fifteen minutes at the most. I assumed we had pulled into the station and that was what had woken me up. But as I lifted my head, I heard Chunk say, "Oh, no!"

"What is it?" I asked. "What's wrong?" Was the station closed? Was something holding us up? It didn't seem to, because we were still moving.

Andy put her finger to her lips. "Listen."

I strained my ears. At first I didn't hear anything, but as I listened longer, I could pick out something hitting the roof of the boxcar. It got louder and louder, and I recognized it as rain. A clap of thunder sounded, and I felt the vibrations underneath my feet. "Oh, you're kidding me," I moaned. "What time is it?"

"I dunno," said Brand. "Data, what time is it?"

Data smiled widely and opened a compartment on his belt, which held a small screen that displayed a series of numbers. He pressed a button on something extending from his sleeve, and the numbers flashed and settled on 12:34. "Does that answer your question, Luna?"

I nodded. "Thanks." My face was turning pink from trying not to laugh.

Data noticed, and smiled in confusion. "What? Why are you laughing at Data? Did I do something funny?"

"Your face," said Chunk.

"Chunk..." Andy reprimanded.

"No, you didn't do anything funny, Data," I told him. "I'm just...amused, that's all. Partly because you have all these gadgets on you. It's really cool."

"Wow, you're one of the first people who's ever said anything like that," said Data, smiling wider, the confused look gone. "Finally, someone who appreciates all the time I spend on my inventions. I'm so tired of people telling me they're stupid!" He punched a hay bale on the word 'stupid.'

"Who said they were stupid?" I asked. "I love your inventions, Data. I'd love to see them..."

Data looked proudly around at the rest of the guys and Andy.

"Yeah, Double-O-Negative, show us your inventions," Mouth broke in.

"How many times do I have to tell you, I'm James Bond!" Data yelled at him. "James Bond, 007!" He pressed a button on his belt, and two incredibly bright lights came on and shined in Mouth's face.

"Auugh!" Mouth screamed, covering his face with his hands and collapsing to the floor.

"These are my Bully Blinders, Luna!" Data said happily, turning around. My eyes watered with pain, and I shielded my face from the harsh lights.

"Don't worry, Luna," said Brand, next to me. "The batteries give out quickly."

"I have a story to tell you all," said Data. "I didn't get to tell you last time because you were too busy yelling at me...oh, there they go," he complained, and the light ceased and went out. "Anyway, there was these two big guys who stopped me on the street, and asked for my lunch money. I shone these in their face and they both fell over!" He wore a triumphant look on his face.

"I don't blame them," I said, laughing. "That thing really hurts!"

"Tell me about it," said Mouth, sitting up and holding his head in his hands, still partly covering his face.

"That'll teach you to call Data Double-O-Negative," Data spat.

The train slowed to a stop. Everyone raced to the windows, and we had halted in front of a small station in the country with a special dirt path that I suspected was for the sole purpose of leading livestock. It was separated from the somewhat sparse forest by a rickety fence, upon which hung cow yokes. On the other side of the boxcar was a large grassy meadow dotted with picturesque oak trees, and a barnhouse complete with a silo. Wildflowers had sprouted up here and there, and it was absolutely beautiful. It made me wish I had brought my camera...wait, Data probably had one. I was about to ask when Brand said, "Now, I'm in charge, and I say that we get out now before Grover comes looking for us. I want to be gone as fast as possible, but I also want to circle back around to make sure the train leaves, actually leaves, instead of pulling onto the turntable." He pointed to a turntable and a housing station a little ways up the tracks. "Andy and I will do that. You all, find somewhere to stay." He pulled a wad of money out of his pocket and handed it to me. "Then meet me back here. You can lead us back." He slung his backpack over one shoulder, reminding the rest of us of our packs. We all put them on.

"I know of a place," said Chunk. "It's where my dad stays when we visit my grandparents, because they don't have any room in their house. It's an old fashioned tavern, really good food. They have battered shrimp and butter biscuits and..."

"Chunk!" Brand burst out.

"Fine," Chunk muttered. "I'm just saying, it has really good food. But anyway, they have a few rooms. No house-cleaning, though, so it's real cheap. We can stay there. In fact, it's not too far from the train station."

"What's it called?" Brand asked.

Chunk screwed up his face, trying to remember. "Um...something country-ish...It's like, Ye Olde Lighthouse Tavern or something."

"Ok, fine, meet you there," said Brand. "Now let's go! Run! If Mikey gets an asthma attack out here I won't know what the hell to do." He flung open the door of the boxcar and we all rushed outside into the rain.


	9. Panic in the Rain

Author's Note: Heh, heh, heh. No new reviews, people. I am getting frustrated. And feel as though I have once again been slacking off in the torture-my-characters department. I'm tired of being so NICE all the time. Maybe I should leave them out in the rain. Why am I saying 'maybe,' you ask? Well, do you think I PLAN what is going to happen! No, I swear, the story writes itself. I am just the medium through which it expresses itself. It is quite an honor bows to Story Gods I have been blessed. Now...who wants some characters to be in pain? waits for uproar but hears none Ok then...who wants me to continue being terribly nice to them? still hears nothing Urgh, what's the use of being blessed by the Story Gods if nobody reads the stories? I guess I do have some control over what happens. I get to come up with all the bad things that happen to them. cackles Maybe I was blessed by the Story Satan instead. ONWARDS!

I hate rain, it makes everything so gray and dismal. I don't play outside much, so you can wonder why it really matters, it won't ruin my day, right? Wrong. It just casts this heavy atmosphere over me, like the overcast sky. It simply sucks out my energy. That is, unless I am out in it.

Which in this case, here and now, I am. As I leapt out of the boxcar, my boots landed on the muddy ground with a squelch, sending mud up on my pants legs. I was glad I hadn't taken my pants off, it would be hell if mud flew up my skirt. Ugh, not something I want to think about right now.

Every time I put my foot down, mud splattered my pants even more. I wished I had brought a rain jacket.

I had initially been worried I wouldn't be able to keep up with Brand, as I am no marathon runner, but my worries faded as I remembered that Chunk was a good deal slower than I was. Since the fence limited our area, we had to stay in single file. I was somewhere in the middle of the line, with Chunk and Data behind me (but only because Data had tripped over his long trenchcoat at some point and had mud all up the front of his clothes, and specks of it on his face). Ok, so I was in the back of the middle of the line. Don't bother me with technicalities.

The forest gave way to town after about a quarter mile. "This is...Main Street," Chunk huffed. "This is...the street...the tavern's on...I think..." he stopped and took a few breaths, bending over. I'm not saying I'm in the best shape in the world, but his face was terribly red despite the cool air and the rain. That's what he got for eating all those Baby Ruth's and Twinkie's.

Breath, breath, "Ok, let's...go!" and we took off again, down a hill on the right. I didn't know if we were going the right way, and by the looks of it Brand didn't either, but he just kept running like he knew exactly where he was going. For all I know he may have been right, though, because Chunk didn't complain. Then again, he could barely talk. He didn't stop running, though. No sign of protest. I hoped we were in the right direction, because I was getting really tired.

After another eighth of a mile or so, Mouth and Mikey began to slow down. Then Data, then Andy. Brand got the idea and slowed down to a smooth jog, which was easier for me to keep up. Eventually Mikey fell down and didn't get back up, so we had to stop.

Brand crouched over his brother. "Mikey, you idiot, get up! You're going to get sick if you lay down in the rain!"

Andy tapped him on the shoulder. "I think he's already sick, listen."

A buzz started in our little group. "LISTEN!" Brand bellowed. "Everyone shut up for a minute."

In the quiet, I could still only hear the rain and the buzz of the occasional car a few streets over. But in a second I could hear Mikey's breathing, it was ragged. It sounded like he had something caught in his chest.

"Oh, god," Brand said, looking worried.

"What?" I asked, my eyes growing wide. "What is it?" I am quick to jump to conclusions, and I could feel my heart rate speeding up. Panic is the enemy, panic is the enemy, panic is something I am VERY good at.

"He's having an asthma attack," Brand said frantically. "Listen!"

"Did he bring his inhaler? Someone get his inhaler out of his backpack!" Andy screamed, wiping rain off of her face. It was beginning to rain harder. This was a very, very bad time for Mikey's asthma to begin acting up.

Mouth turned Mikey on his side and took off his backpack. He rummaged around in it. "It has got to be in here somewhere..." he pulled out a stuffed pig. "What the hell is this?"

Brand narrowed his eyes. "Give me that," he snapped, and stuffed it in his own backpack. I couldn't help laughing at this. I shut up quickly, though, when Andy gave me a death glare.

Panic set in again inside of me, and I squeezed my eyes shut. I felt like I was in pain, simply because my friend was here suffering and there was nothing I could do about it, I was so helpless and insignificant...a little voice in the back of my head said, "Chill, dude. It's an bloody asthma attack, he's not gonna i die /i , for crying out loud." But I am well known for ignoring the little voices in the back of my head, which are usually more sensible than I am.

p i "She's not gonna make it." /i /p 

I looked up. "What? Who said that? Who's not gonna make it?"

Brand looked at me like I was crazy. "What the hell are you going on about? Nobody said anything!"

I know I had heard something, but my mind was pulled out of this little wisp of thought by a tiny moan from Mikey, and a frustrated grunt from Mouth, who was still rummaging around in the backpack.

I moved closer to Mikey. "Can you say anything?"

"Can't...breathe...help..."

I brushed his wet hair out of his face. "Mouth is looking for your inhaler as we speak, just hang on a minute."

"THAT'S IT!"

The outburst came from Chunk, who had obviously by now regained his ability to speak. He was jumping up and down, pointing excitedly to a stone building on the other side of the street. "That's the tavern, guys! Come on! Get Mikey and come on!"

I stood up and shook the hair out of my eyes. I could make out some words over the door, the Something Tavern. Close enough. I turned back around, and Brand had already taken Mikey into his arms and started running towards the tavern. Everyone else followed, except for Mouth, who was putting things back into the backpack. "Go, Mouth!" I shouted. "I'll pick up the stuff, just go!"

He nodded without question (!) and ran after them. I knelt down and picked up some tins and cans and a deck of cards, then a pocket map of Oregon. Once I collected all the dropped items, I carried them in my arms and rushed down the street, through the rain, and into the tavern, even passing Mouth. I did, however, get a look at the name of the tavern. "Hey Chunk!" I yelled when I got inside. "You said it was called Ye Olde Lighthouse tavern."

He looked up. "Actually it might be called the Pentacle Pub."

"It's called Chestnut Tavern and Pub!" I yelled.

I looked around me. It was quite...wooden. Everything in here was polished oak wood. Wooden tables and chairs and floor and walls and counters. Everything but the glasses and beer. Even the people seemed to be wooden, as they were all old and wore common expressions of amusement and confusion as they looked at us over their drinks. The actual bar was in the middle of the room, and there was a passage to the right that looked like it led a long way back, possibly to the rooms. The pub was well-lit by randomly placed lanterns on the ceiling, which was quite useful, because even though it couldn't be past one or two o'clock, it was fairly dark outside.

There was a kind of bench-cot thing near the door, where I found everyone else. All except Chunk, who had sat at a table as if he was waiting for someone to come and take his order. Which he probably was.

By this time Brand was fed up and said, "Data, help Mouth find Mikey's inhaler!"

"You got it!" said Data, glad to be given a task, and he scampered over to Mouth, who had taken a seat on the floor a couple meters away from the bench.

I wiped the rain off of my face and kneeled down next to the bench-cot. "Mikey! Can you say anything?"

He just moaned a little bit and said, "N...no."

"Stop asking him if he can talk, you idiot!" Brand yelled, making everyone else in the bar turn to look at us. "Don't make him talk!"

My temper flared at this. "How dare you insult my intelligence. You don't seem to know much about what you're doing."

"At least I don't panic in the face of danger, unlike SOME people," he muttered.

"Say that again."

"What?"

"Say that again, I dare you."

Andy rushed between us. "You guys, be quiet!"

"Found it!" Data yelled triumphantly, pulling out a rounded, L-shaped object from Mikey's pack.

"Damn, I thought that was a vibrator," said Mouth thoughtfully. "Boy was I wrong..."

"Remind me to smack you once this is over," Brand said angrily. He opened Mikey's mouth and pushed a button on the top of the inhaler, and the result was instantaneous. His breathing became deeper and the garbled noise coming from his chest got quieter and quieter until it disappeared altogether, and Mikey's coloring was getting back to normal. I didn't notice what an odd shade of magenta he had become until he started recovering from his ordeal.

He was breathing deeper and more heavily now, sucking in breaths as if each were precious. I sat down on the bench near his head, and he scooted upward with a small grunt and laid his head on my leg. A waiter brought me a blanket, and I spread it over him. I hoped he wouldn't fall asleep here. Fat chance, it was too wet. The bench was covered in rainwater, as was the ground around us. Everyone was looking at us, so Brand found it fairly safe to say, "Can I get a couple of rooms for tonight?"


	10. Happiness is Only a Crab's Pinch Away

Author's Note: YEAH! Still nothing new in the reviews department. Why! It makes me so sad...oh well. Did anyone (besides me and my loyal readers i.e. no one) notice that there were none, absolutely NO COWS in the last chapter! Cows GONE! And I have finally tormented one of my characters and sent the rest of them into a frenzy (except for poor little Chunk, who is probably still trying to catch his breath). How fun, I've been missing this. I haven't tortured a story character like this in a good week, and it's been killing me. Poor little characters. I love them, that's why I torment them. Kind of like my friends, who still are not reading my story. Shame upon your souls. Also in a state of sadness because my boyfriend hath gone to Parthenon-a-gogo Land, a.k.a. Greece, to visit family. But I have emailed him this story, so James, if you are reading this...HI! Much lurve to you, you are the first person I know in real life who has taken time to read this. Have fun with your conservative loons in Parthenon-a-gogo land. Take pictures of the scenery (that includes you too, you know. Bring pictures of YOU! Not that I'm not interested in Parthenon-a-gogo land, it's just...eh, nevermind). Miss you (kinda). Don't look at me that way...well, I'm proud you got this far into the story without dying. And yes, Luna is based loosely on me, however, as you know, James, I am a blood enthusiast. God, if I type anymore, the author's note is gonna be longer than the chapter. So here we go!

I was rooming in with Brand and Andy. Brand had insisted on bringing Mikey too, "in case of another scare," he said. He was such a good older brother. They had their rows, and their differences, but when it all came down to the wire, Brand cared a lot about Mikey.

When we all got settled and Andy checked behind the headboards for bedbugs, I asked, "Um, so, what are we going to do now?"

"I do i not /i want to go back out into the rain," Andy said, looking disgusted.

"Dry off?" Mikey suggested. He was lying on the furthermost bed to the right. Our room was much like the rest of the tavern as everything was wooden and polished. It was quaint and simple, with two full-sized beds (wooden frames, of course) that faced the door, and a narrow wooden dresser between them with a lamp on it. Then there was a longer, double dresser on the side that the door was on, and on the right was a small closet. There was no chair, but instead a low stool. There was no bathroom. The guests all had to use the bar bathroom, which was filthy. They only had two: one for the guests, and one for the employees. I bet the employee's was better. It always was.

"Tell you what," said Andy. "I'll go get us all some food, and then we can all go over to the others' room and see what we're going to do. Maybe if it stops raining, we'll go for a walk or something."

"It would be great if we had a TV or something," I said.

"I have a walkman!" Brand said. "We can tune into the radio."

"No, we can't," Mikey pointed out. "Data took your batteries, remember?"

"Of course," Brand muttered. "Data took my batteries."

"Go ask Data for them back?"

"No, remember, he was inside getting the batteries from your walkman, Brand, you didn't bring it."

"Damn."

One hour later we were all in the boys' room (Brand had simply barged in as if he owned the place, and Mouth yelled "JERK ALERT!"), munching on chicken wings and listening to Data's radio. He had fashioned some sort of a speaker and connected it with a tall piece of metal that acted as an antennae, and we were able to tune into the news channel and see what the weather would be.

"The rain should clear up by about three or so," came the crackling voice of the weather person. Because of the poor reception, I was unable to tell if it was a man or a woman's voice. It just sounded like a static robot. But I still praised Data for his work, as I knew I couldn't make anything like that and have it work like he did.

And true to his/her words, the rain stopped at exactly 2:58.

We went outside in our big group. But to get there, we had to go through the bar, which was infested with the same low-lifes that were there before. Someone whispered "there they go again" and another one snickered and stared at Chunk.

When we got outside, the sun was peeking through the clouds, and the town looked much prettier than it did in the rain. In fact, it looked much like Astoria, very quaint. We walked uphill, passing the buildings much slower now, taking a chance to see what was inside of them.

"You know, guys, there's a beach on the other side of town," Chunk suggested. "Maybe we can go there, you know, for dinner. They have a seafood restaurant and everything."

I was hit with a sudden thought. "How big is this town, Chunk?"

"Puny. Why?"

"Your grandparents," I said slowly. "What if they see you?"

"Yeah, Chunk!" said Mouth. "They'll turn us in, or tell our parents, or something like that!"

"Um..." Brand thought out loud. "We're, uh, taking a...field trip?"

"Yeah," said Andy. "And we're...chaperones."

"We're sixteen," I said. "They'll never believe us."

"They're little old people!" Chunk said in exasperation. "They won't be able to tell if you guys are sixteen or sixty!"

All of us laughed, except for Andy, who said, "That's not a nice thing to say about your grandparents."

"It might not be nice, but it's true," Chunk admitted.

"Come on guys!" Mouth insisted. "Let's go to the beach! I'm tired of being cooped up indoors like a chicken!"

"Lead the way, Chunk!" said Brand.

We all followed Chunk, who had a very heroic look on his face. That was, until Data said, "He'll get us lost for sure."

After a good thirty minutes of wandering around town, we found that the path to the beach was only about a ten minute walk from the tavern. Brand glared at Chunk, and he cowered under the gaze. I was impressed that he'd been able to get us there at all. He kept pointing out every wrong turn he made, and stating that he 'knew where he was going.' It had me in small fits of laughter with Mouth in the back of the line. Mouth was telling me about how Chunk and Sloth had saved the gang from the Fratellis. Chunk had flown in wearing a pirate hat and demanded to be referred to as "Captain Chunk" for about a week after the adventure had ended. It turns out that there had been another girl with them on that adventure, Andy's friend Stef. Apparently though, Andy and Stef had drifted apart after she had started dating Brand. Stef couldn't stand Brand, and hated the way Andy acted around him. From the sound of her, we would have gotten along well, and I was kind of sorry that she wasn't invited.

I was amazed by the beauty of the beach. It was more rocky than sandy, and the banks were dotted with conifers, but the water was gorgeous! It was a little bit rough, and kind of a steely gray color, but I bet it was even more beautiful on a clear day. It reminded me somewhat of coastal Maine. Except on the other side of the continent.

There were patches of sand here and there among the rocks, and it was in one of the larger pockets that we all got settled. I sat down on a nearby rock and dangled my hands into a tide pool. It was infused with sea lettuce and a vibrant purple sea urchin, with some other lifeless shells lying about.

Data came about and sat down on the rock next to me. "It's really cool, isn't it?" he asked. "That's a cockle shell, and a purple sea vermin, and..."

"Purple sea urchin," I corrected.

He cocked his head at me and glared. "That's what I said."

"No, you didn't," I protested. "You said 'vermin.' That's what you said."

"Did not."

"Did too."

"Did not."

"Did too...AURGH!" In the heat of the playful argument I had leaned to the side, and something had gotten hold of my middle finger and would not let go. I jiggled my finger a little bit, hoping to shake whatever it was off, but it bit me harder. "Dammit!" I lifted my finger out of the water, and there, hanging on stubbornly, was a sort of (rather large) crab. "Dammit, dammit, DAMMIT!" I hopped over to where Brand was standing, shaking my hand and contorting my face.

"Dance, Loony, dance!" Mouth called, laughing. Chunk and Mikey were breathless, rolling on the sand. Data was just smiling widely, sitting on his rock, enjoying the show. I, though, was clearly not.

"BRAAAAAND!" I called. "Getimoffme getimoffme getimoffme!" I continued to hop about in strange patterns. "He won't let go, DAMMIT!"

Just as I said that, the crab loosened his grip and I flung him across the beach. He landed on another rock, uprighted himself, and rubbed his claws together indignantly. I don't know why, I was the one who had lost my dignity, not him.

I noticed that Mikey, Chunk, and Mouth were clapping. "That wasn't FUNNY!" I yelled, my middle finger throbbing with pain. "Am I bleeding?" And I stuck my middle finger up in the air so I could see, without thinking about what I was doing.

"Well, REALLY!" I spun around and saw an elderly couple walking by on the bank. The woman looked at me disapprovingly. The man looked uptight himself, but he just kept his head pointed straight on.

As soon as they passed out of earshot, I collapsed on the sand, holding my finger, laughing helplessly. I spat out, "That wasn't FUNNY!" again between futile breaths, but truthfully it was quite funny. It was the most painful fun I'd had in a long time.

When we all regained our breath and composure, we sat on the biggest rock we could find and just talked. About things, nothing in particular, just...random bits here and there. I told them how I had found a fox pup once and hid it in my closet. I learned that Chunk had lost an eating competition to his 98-pound cousin. And Mouth, Mouth of all people, was homesick.

"You, Mouth?"

He turned away. "I knew you would say that. Nobody really expects for someone like me to feel that way." I got the impression that he was saying, i You're just like everyone else. /i In that sense, anyway.

"Sorry, I didn't mean it that way."

"Ok." He simply nodded slightly. "You know, Loony, you'd make a good Goonie, you know that?"

I was a bit surprised, and very flattered. I considered these Goonies to be my peers, even though most of them were a good deal younger than I was with the exception of Brand and Andy. It wasn't like a little kid asking you to join their tea party. Which I know is an interesting metaphor, but you are flattered in that sense also. However, I felt like I was really being accepted into a kind of friendship I'd always dreamed of. Where everyone loved everyone, and helped one another, and that kind of crap. Urgh, I'm not usually one to get all mushy and such. I'm just putting it into the simplest terms possible.

"Thanks." I took him into an embrace, and to my surprise, he not only accepted it, but returned it as well.


	11. What Goes on Under the Bed Stays There

Author's Note: Again, working on more than one chapter per day. I finished chapter ten this afternoon and am already writing chapter eleven while waiting for my dad, so we can go for a walk together. Then I am going to force him to watch The Goonies. My beloved favorite movie. He thinks I love it so much because there is an actor I am in love with in it. Which is kind of creepy, because everyone except Brand is a good 4 or 5 years younger than I am, and the guy who plays Brand isn't my type sweatdrop Eh, well. The actual adventure will come soon, I promise upon promise.

We'd been sitting on the rock for nearly an hour when Brand said, "Dammit! I forgot to see if the train left. I blame you and your bloody breathing problems, Mikey." He shot Mikey a nasty look. He mumbled under his breath, and I could pick out the phrases "Damn kid" "I'll give you a breathing problem" and a word I am not willing to repeat. At this Andy smacked him lightly in the back of the head in reprimand, and he stopped muttering.

"Don't worry about it," said Andy. "I'm sure he's gone."

But something in the pit of my stomach didn't think so.

As usual (well, not really), I was right. We got back to the tavern around 5:30, and our friend Grover was sitting there with another man I didn't recognize. The other man was the picture of a nineteenth century gentleman, complete with a top hat and a cigar. I motioned to Brand, but he'd already seen Grover. Apparently Grover had seen us too, and whispered something to his comrade. Even if he hadn't spotted us before, Mouth's outburst of "jerk alert" would have caught his attention.

The gentleman leaned over to see past Rover and inspected us.

"Chunk," Mikey whispered. "Do the Truffle Shuffle."

"Now?"

"Do it!" he hissed.

Chunk climbed on the bench, pulled up his shirt and wiggled about, his unattractive rolls of belly fat jiggling. The gentleman looked away, disgusted. I hoped he hadn't gotten too good of a look. Then again, we were unmistakable. How many groups like us do you see traveling around?

We hurried back into our rooms as fast as we could.

"Good grief," said Brand, sinking down on one of the beds. "Good grief."

"Who was that with him?" Andy asked.

"Abraham Lincoln," Mikey piped up. I smiled at him, and he laughed quietly.

"I'm getting concerned," Brand said seriously. "He dropped his accent on the train, mentioned Daniel Bradford, and now is here...he suspects something, I know it. I don't think HE thinks we're on the run from the law anymore."

"I bet we're on the run from the police by now," said Andy. "Someone must have alerted them."

"But like I said before, nobody would expect us to get on the livestock train," I pointed out, remembering the cows. Urgh. I really hate cows. I would be perfectly fine if I never had to get close to them again.

Someone knocked on our door. "God, why did he have to see us? Why did he have to choose THIS pub?" Brand spat out quietly, motioning for the rest of us to go into the closet. When we were all safely (and uncomfortably) crammed into the closet, I heard him say, "Who is it?" I didn't hear a reply, but Brand said, "Oh, I'm sorry. Do come in," and the door opened and shut. "Come on out, guys, it's only Mouth."

Brand opened the doors to the closet and Andy, Mikey and I tumbled out in a heap. Mouth cracked up. "What is this, a threesome?"

"Shut up, Mouth," Mikey said.

Mouth's face turned serious. "You guys, something is going on. I really, really don't think that this Grover guy means good news, and neither does his top-hatted friend. I've checked the map, the place isn't too far, let's just go now!"

"Mouth, we can't do that," said Andy.

"Why not? If we wait until tomorrow we could give Grover and his partner in crime a head start."

"Wait," I said. "We are not positive he is looking for the same thing as we are."

"Of course he is!" Brand said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "You heard him talking about Daniel Bradford, he said he was looking for him. I'm nearly sure of it."

"Yes, but how would he know where he is going?" I asked. "The boys have the map!"

"That may be true, but he somehow found his way to Jajowe. He must know where he is going to an extent," Andy pointed out.

Suddenly all the lights went out, including our own lamp. I guess that meant that the tavern was closing. Brand lit a lantern and we all went back to conversing about the possibilities.

Eventually Mouth went back to his room, and Data came over carrying a lantern, announcing, "We should get an early start, guys! My clock, says it's 9. Go to bed NOW!"

"Nine o'clock?" I asked, looking at him like he was crazy. "Why the hell would we want..."

He put his hand over my mouth. "Go to bed and be quiet!" And he left, closing the door with finality. The room was completely dark.

Damn.

I guess I didn't realize how truly tired I was until I sank down into bed next to Andy. Brand and Mikey were sharing the other bed, the one closer to the closet. Mikey's steady, slow breathing indicated that he was already asleep. Andy turned over in bed and nestled her head into the space between the two pillows. That's the last thing I remember.

At least until the next morning, or rather, I estimated, about 5 a.m. when someone came barging into the room. My first thought was, Why don't they lock the doors of the rooms in this place? My second thought was, Oh god, it's Grover and Abe!

But no, it was only Data and Brand. Data was holding a lantern, and Brand looked absolutely ferocious. He had a wild look in his eyes.

"Good grief, Brand," I groaned. "What is it? It's too early!"

"Chunk is missing!" Data said, coming over and jumping on the end of my bed. "Wake up, Luna! Wake up NOW!"

"I'm awake!" I rolled out of bed. I mean, I literally rolled out of the bed and onto the wooden floor. "Oof!"

"We can't find Chunk anywhere!" said Brand, his voice cracking at the first syllable of 'anywhere.' "We've looked all over the tavern, in the bathrooms, behind the bar, the closets, everywhere!"

I lifted myself off of the floor into a sitting position. "Chunk is hard to miss, guys," I said, still half asleep and not fully understanding the predicament.

"Luna, Data Bond 007 commands you to wake up right...NOW!" said Data loudly, swinging the lantern in front of my face and accidentally hitting me in the head with it, knocking me over.

"God, Double-O-Negative!" yelled Mouth, coming in from outside the doorframe. "You've probably knocked her out now, you're causing more problems than you're solving!"

I was starting to wake up now, and stood up, rubbing the tender bump on my head. "Owww..."

"You're jinxed, Data," teased Mouth. "If she spends another freakin' day in your presence she'll die!"

Data looked hurt, but he knelt down next to me. "Chunk. Is. Missing," he repeated. "Brand says Grover took him away!"

I leapt up, frightened. "Someone ask the bartender if he saw Grover leave last night!"

"Andy's doing that right now," Brand said. I immediately sat down on the bed, feeling disappointed that someone had thought of that before I did. And why didn't they wake me immediately?

Right on cue, Andy came rushing in with Mikey. "The bartender says that they both spent the night here. Both of them should still be here."

"Find out where they are staying!" Brand practically screeched. "We can't lose him! Search their room if you can!"

Mikey slumped down next to me. The lights in the tavern chose this moment to come on again, and I could see fear and worry reflected in his eyes. "We're going to find Chunk, aren't we? We need to, we can't go on an adventure without Chunk!" I noticed that his face looked tearstained. The gurgling in his chest started up again, but he pulled his inhaler out of his jeans pocket and pushed the button on top. The dreaded sound went away.

I turned away from Mikey and looked back at Brand. He stared at me, his gaze was intense and I felt like his eyes were piercing my very flesh. I was tempted to wince, but simply stared back. "Are you bloody COMING?" he finally erupted.

I looked back at Mikey, who just sat there, looking defeated. This kid, who never gave up on the One-Eyed Willy adventure. Never gave up on busting the Fratellis, didn't give up when Data fell down the hole in the floor, didn't give up when Andy played the wrong notes on the piano of bones. But here he was, giving up on someone that he cared about.

"No," I said simply. Brand threw up his hands and stomped out the door.

"Why are you giving up, Mikey?" I asked. "You never give up!"

"I haven't."

"Why aren't you doing anything?"

"We never checked this room, you know."

"Well, why not!"

"I asked Brand about it, and he said Chunk couldn't be in here, because he would have heard him come in."

So Mikey and I scoured the room. We looked under the sink cupboard. We looked in the closet.

Mikey pulled out all of the drawers in the dresser. It was so absurd I couldn't help but laugh. "Why the hell are you looking in there?"

Mikey simply looked at me. "You never know," he said seriously.

He then made me look under Andy's and my bed, and he looked under his and Brand's.

Sure enough, there was Chunk, sleeping soundly under my bed. He was wearing footie pajamas, and held some kind of animal that had been patched so many times over I couldn't tell what it was.

I started laughing. And couldn't stop. Chunk still didn't wake up, which just made me laugh harder.

"What's going on?" Andy's voice called from down the hall.

"We found Chunk!" Mikey said happily.

The whole gang came rushing into the room, cramming to get through the doorway. "You found Chunk?" "Where is he?" "How the hell did he fit under the bed?"

"He...he won't..." I choked out.

"What?" Andy asked. "He won't what?"

"He won't...wake up!" I said, laughing even harder than before. I don't know why exactly I found this to be so funny, but pretty soon everyone else was nearly rolling on the floor. Chunk finally did wake up a couple minutes later and screamed, "Where am I?" in such a panic that we started up again, Chunk included (that was, after he had gotten over the embarrassment of sleeping under our bed and being caught in his footie pajamas with his stuffed whatsit).

"Well," Mikey said, a few minutes later after we had all regained our breath again. "Since we're all awake, let's go on and get going."

"I just want to get out of here, because there are going to be a lot of tired guests trying to chop our limbs off," I said.

"I want out because Grover and his friend were not happy at all when I barged into their room," Brand said. "They probably want to kill us more now than they did before..."

"Wait..." said Chunk. "They wanted to kill us before?"

Brand shook his head. "It's just a suspicion. Don't worry about it." As if that settled it. But I saw the way Chunk looked at him. I knew what that look meant. Put into words, it translated as "You know something I don't know, and it pisses me off that you aren't telling me, you jerk."


	12. Mysteries and Melodrama Galore

Author's Note: I'm sorry about the lack of chapters, I was a counselor at a camp and then went to the beach for a week. cowers But now I'm back, and here's the (not really) long-awaited Chapter 12! Enjoy! Oh yeah, and the "childhood memory" is real, something that drove me crazy when I was little (and still does).

Since everyone was awake, Brand decided we dress, shower, and leave quickly and quietly. Which was nearly impossible since we had probably awoken everyone up in this and the surrounding buildings. I pointed this out to him, but he simply glared at me and said something about me being anal.

Mouth and Mikey cracked up at the word "anal."

"It doesn't have anything to do with 'anus,'" Andy told them, and they laughed harder. "Anal means that you...like, you are..." She looked at me helplessly.

I explained the best I could, drawing from a childhood memory. "You know the cereal, Froot Loops? Of course you do. Anyway, you know how they spell it F-R-O-O-T instead of F-R-U-I-T? That drives me bloody nuts! How they spell the word wrong to make a name for themselves, you know? My stepmom says I'm anal when I get agitated about that. Understand?"

They nodded.

My stepmom. Meghan. I wonder if she had heard about us gone missing yet? I really wouldn't care one way or the other, honestly. I don't care what she thinks, because I don't love her. My dad does, though. Obviously, or else he wouldn't have married her. I'm glad he makes her happy, but...

I have no reason to dislike my stepmom, and I don't dislike her. She's nice and sweet and cheerful and bright, she likes to joke around and take my dad and I to the park or on a hike. She's always finding fun things for the three of us to do. She bakes, and when I come home from school the house often smells like angel food cake or sweet rolls or whatever she has decided to make. She dresses well and is very pretty, and gives me tips on how to make my hair fluffy or get the most out of my mascara or whatever. She's a lot of fun. One has a good time being around her. I like her a lot. I just...don't love her. And I don't know why. There's this little voice in the back of my head saying that I probably should. She's done a lot for me and made me very happy in the time that she's lived with us. My dad is happier than he was before her, and the house always has this pleasant atmosphere. I just...don't love her.

Maybe I do care what she thinks. Maybe...

All thoughts of Meghan were wiped from my mind at Brand's shouts of "time to go!"

I gathered my backpack.

"I've got the map!" Data declared, and pulled it out of one of the pockets of his trenchcoat.

He unrolled it, and we all crowded around him.

It was the first time I had gotten a good look at the map. In fact, the only other time I had seen it was when I picked it up after it had fallen out of Mikey's rucksack. For a map dating back to the Civil War, it looked rather odd. It did have the characteristic yellow-brown color of other old pieces of paper, but didn't crumble in your hands when you touched it. Something in the back of my head questioned its authenticity.

The ink used on the map was a combination of black, crimson, and cobalt blue. Some of the lines were unclear because they were rather thin, and the ink had run in several places. Fortunately, it didn't seem to have obscured anything of significance.

After staring at it for a moment, Data pointed to a red building on the map that was drawn to look like it was made of stone. "We are here."

"How can you tell?"Chunk asked. "There isn't one of those 'you are here' stickers that you see on maps at the zoo."

Data biffed Chunk on the back of his head. "Because it says 'Chestnut Tavern,' genius."

"Oh yeah? Well, let me see you find your way to Daniel Bradford all by yourself, Double-O-Negative."

"That's pretty rough coming from someone in footie pajamas," Mouth pointed out. "And Luna's got pictures! Don't you, Luna? For blackmail. So if you ever decide to do anything we don't like..."

"Luna doesn't have pictures," Chunk argued. "Do you?"

I nodded. I didn't have pictures, obviously, but he didn't need to know that.

"Aw, shit," Chunk muttered.

"Anyway, Data, where are we supposed to go?" Brand asked, still hovering over the map.

Data turned his attention back to the map. "Hmm..." he traced a black line with his finger. Well, from here we need to go more so towards the harbor. We can find our way from there."

"You mean, near the beach?" Andy asked dreamily. "Just think, Brand, we could go to the beach...at sunrise."

"Sunrise?"

"Yeah. Luna can take the kids, and we can..."

I started laughing. "God, Andy, you sound like a regular parent!"

She looked indignant. "Well I am, aren't I?"

Mikey laughed. "Brand and Andy are our parents!"

We all got a kick out of that, until Mouth spoke up, "What's Loony, then? The maid?"

"Yeah, what am I?" I asked, trying to look perturbed. There was a grin tugging at the corners of my mouth.

"The servant!" Brand decided.

"Who empties the chamber pots!" Chunk added.

"You disgust me!" I giggled, playfully shoving Chunk. It kind of embarrassed me, made me feel uncomfortable. But at the same time it felt kind of good to know that they felt like they could joke around me.

"Let's go now," said Brand, putting an end to our bizarre merrymaking.

We left the tavern and started up the main road to the harbor. Brand and Andy walked in front. Brand adopted what he thought was a 'manly swagger,' but mostly it made him look like he was a bow-legged rooster strutting all over the street. They were far ahead of us by a good twenty feet. Though it was foggy, though, we could still make them out. A couple of times, Data had to run up and drag them around a corner because they would make a wrong turn.

Part of my mind was saying, 'how pathetic.' But another part, a little further back, was slightly jealous. It must feel nice to be that deeply in love, or at least as deeply in love as a couple of overly preppy teenagers can get. So in love that when you turn a corner, you don't really care where you'll end up, all you know is that you have one another.

My god, I'm turning into a mushy mushizer. Or worse, Dr. Phil. Someone hit me.

But still, I didn't have that kind of a connection with anyone. It kind of made me wonder whether I was doing something wrong. Or I was supposed to feel a certain way, and just didn't. I would get made fun of in junior high because I didn't date around, I would get called a lesbian and the sort. Even a whore, someone started a stupid rumor that I didn't date anyone because I slept with the policemen to bribe them out of fining me for breaking laws. That wasn't true, of course. Neither one of them is true. I just haven't found anyone who I really, truly felt attracted to.

Yes, I have a boyfriend now. I am physically attracted to him, and I have a good time together, but I have yet to experience love. Meghan says that when love hits you, you'll know it. You won't know what real love is until you experience it.

Try telling that to people in junior high. They called me a whore, then went and slept with some football player they hardly knew and called it love. Sleazy.

My eyes must have glazed over or something, because Mikey said, "What're you thinking about?"

"Oh," I said. "Just...memories."

"Of what?"

"Something that my stepmom says."

"Oh. What's your stepmom like?"

"Really nice, and cheerful. Fun to be around. Smiles a lot, pretty, good cook. Super-sweet, generous, anything you could want in a mother."

"Oh. Okay."

The four of us in the back were quiet for the next five minutes or so, until Mikey said out of the blue, "You don't like her."

"Like who?" I asked.

"Your stepmom."

I was a bit taken aback. "No, it's not that, it's not that at all. I like her a lot, she's a lot of fun!"

"Are you sure?" Mikey asked. "The expression on your face when you described her...you looked..." he groped for an appropriate adjective.

"Troubled," Mouth put in.

I tell you, these kids are wise beyond their years.

"I just..." I sighed. "I don't...love her. Is that bad?"

Mikey frowned, and his eyes gained a deep quality. "Well...I think...you do love her."

I looked at him. "What?" I was tempted to say, "What do you know about how I feel?" but didn't. For politeness' sake. Plus there was something about him, something that hinted that he understood more than he let on.

His next words came out in a torrent. "I think you love her. I think you love her in your own way, you don't love her like you do your mother. But you almost refuse to love her. You love your stepmom but your in denial because you think you might be betraying your real mother by loving her. You're afraid to love her, you're holding it back. You shouldn't hold it back, though, it's not a mistake. You love her, Luna. You do."

His words hit me pretty hard. Not only what he said, but the sheer, raw emotion behind them. It was almost like he'd...felt it himself.


	13. Violence Is Useful

Author's Note: Chapter 13 and I still don't know where I'm going with this. It's not getting any bloody easier. Oh well, I'll be introducing Stef soon, once they get into the caverns. What is she doing down there, you ask? That's for me to know and you to read in a later chapter. Grover and his top-hat friend are coming back soon, we need bad guys. But here you are, enjoy.

"How much further, Data?" Mouth called.

It was about an hour after Mikey had his outburst, and I was still wondering how he could possibly know what he was talking about. I had contemplated what he said. I loved Meghan in her own way? I thought loving her would betray my mom? Maybe. I was just confused right now and would rather not think about it anymore, because if I tried I got all dithery and didn't know what to do with myself.

Data stopped walking and unfurled the map. "Not so much further, guys, I think. Just look out in the water for a claw shaped rock. Apparently it comes out of the water pointy, then hooks at the top."

I smiled at his wording. Not the terminology I would have chosen, but it got his point across well, so everyone just seemed to nod and keep going.

"I see it!" Chunk called, grabbing everyone's attention, and, to continue the metaphor, didn't let go. I say that because he didn't point anything out, or tell us what he saw, he just stood looking out at the ocean.

We turned to face the horizon and were immediately struck by the glare of the sun. I moaned a little and covered my eyes, but I could still see the imprint of the sun. You know, when you stare at a bright light and then you see a spot that seems to float around in the air. It changes color when you blink...when I was little I used to call them "sky plants" because someone told me that they were imprinted into your cornea for a minute or so. I thought they said "implanted" hence "sky plants."

What was I talking about before I rudely interrupted myself? Oh yes.

It took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust to the light, but when they did, I could see the slightly hooked, claw-shaped rock on the horizon.

"We're getting closer!" Data shouted.

-About 20 minutes later-

"I think this is where we're supposed to look..." Data said slowly, alternating glances between his surroundings and the map, which he held at arms' length.

"How do you know?" Brand asked doubtfully.

"Because I just know!" Data told him sharply. "Because I counted out 1,000 paces from where we were perfectly perpendicular to the claw rock!"

"There's nothing here!" Mouth yelled. "I don't want to have to kick your Double-O-Negative ass all the way to Portland!"

"Just ignore him," Andy consoled.

But she didn't know what it was like, now did she? She was a freaking cheerleader. A pretty, slender cheerleader whom everyone loved. She didn't know what it was like to be made fun of, or publicly disliked, or...well...now I'm exaggerating. But anyway, this is where the stereotypical character would say, "I know how you feel." God, I hate it when people say that. It's not true, it never is. Nobody can replicate the kind of hatred or love or devastation one is feeling at the moment.

Oh lord, I am thinking about emotions. I must have a fever or something.

Anyway, Data did not feel like ignoring Mouth, as that is the worst advice you can give to someone. Instead, however, he threw his backpack at the ground and lunged at Mouth, tackling him to the ground and elbowed him in the stomach. Then he rolled the surprised Mouth over on his stomach and delivered blows in sequence to his back, following the natural line of his vertebrae. There was not a lot of power behind them, but I could tell by Mouth's frantic yells of protest that he was not using the flat of his fist, but rather his knuckles.

For the first few seconds everyone simply stood rooted in their respective spots, unable to move, struck by Data's sudden turn to violence. Finally Brand was able to lift his feet out of the metaphorical cement and pulled the tiny Asian kid off of a mussed Mouth, who was clearly as shocked as the rest of us.

I guess you could only handle being called Double-O-Negative so many times.

"Stop struggling!" Brand yelled. He was holding onto Data, who was wriggling to get free. It reminded me of something I had seen at school, in the cafeteria once. There were these two guys fighting, and the lunch ladies had to abandon their posts and fetch a couple of administrators. The administrators were able to pull the guys apart, but they both kept struggling to get at one another. When that spectacle was over, the lunch ladies threw a fit because, in their absence, people were able to sneak up to the "buffet" and steal the food.

"I won't let go until he says..." Data gasped for a breath of air. "Until he says I'm James Bond...(breath)...007!"

"Double-O-Negative," Mouth said weakly. He hadn't stood up yet, he just lay there in a crumpled, defeated form. He had laid back over on his back and instinctively shielded his face somewhat with his hands.

"I...am...separating you two!" Brand yelled. "Luna! You and Mouth go over there!" He pointed to a cluster of thin, scraggly trees up the coast a ways.

I nodded and turned to Mouth, saying, "Can you get up?"

"Yeah." He fought to stand and almost immediately began to sway dangerously. I caught him before he fell. "Good god. I must have twisted my ankle when he knocked me down."

He put his arm around my shoulder and I supported him. We walked (slowly, mind you, it was kind of like a three-legged race) towards the trees.

"Mouth," I said tragically. "You got your ass kicked by a skinny little twit in an all-engulfing trench coat."

I looked at him and he grinned. "I never knew he'd get that angry."

"Me neither," came Mikey's voice, and he supported Mouth from the other side. I was thankful. Mouth was skinny, but heavy. He didn't seem to be making much effort to walk.

We reached the cluster of trees at last, and after settling Mouth down on the ground, he rolled up his pants leg. "Look at it, doc."

I threw up my hands and giggled. "I have no idea what I'm doing. I might do more damage than harm."

"Help," said Mikey.

"What?"

"You might do more damage than help," he repeated.

"That's what I said."

And then the yelling started.

I looked back, and a couple of hundred feet away, back where we had left the rest of the Goonies, we could see a small figure in a trench coat speeding towards us, the rest of the gang screaming and trailing behind.

"Oh my God, not again..." Mikey mumbled, and hoisted Mouth up. "Dammit, Mouth, couldn't you have just told him he was James Bond?"

Mouth shook his head.

We hobbled past the trees and into a ditch-like indentation where I tripped and fell. Which, of course, caused Mouth and Mikey to fall also. I cursed my clumsiness. Dammit, dammit. I had probably hurt everyone which would really suck.

I ignored my pain and saved Mouth from the rabid Data.

Haha.

More like I attempted to stand up but was thrown down again by Data, who once again flung himself over Mouth. In my attempt to upright myself I had formed a sort of bridge over Mouth, and so Data's plan really didn't work all that well. He succeeded in knocking me down, but it did give Mouth a chance to roll out of the way.

It took Data a moment to realize that he was not on top of Mouth, but rather on top of me, and had delivered a rather sharp blow to the space between my collarbone and left breast. Stars burst in front of my eyes for a moment and then I felt myself falling, falling.

God, it couldn't have done so much damage that it knocked me out! I was a bit scared, hoping he didn't accidentally break something, or damage a nerve.

But no, I had really been falling. Because I hit the hard ground. I even bounced a bit, which was quite painful, to say the least.

I love how in stories people always say, "So-and-so ignored their pain and kept going." I've always wondered how people can do that. Maybe I'm just sensitive, but pain is all-engulfing. Take The Shining, for example. At the end, Wendy continues to run and fight after her spine and ribs and who knows what else has been broken. Sure, she's propelled by the fact that she's trying to rescue her kid from an angry spirit, but I still don't see how she's able to run and help Hallorann and not pass out.

Anyway, point made, I am not one to ignore my pain. Rather I laid on the flat, hard ground with my eyes squeezed shut. I didn't feel like moving, it felt like I might shatter if I did so much as lift my hand. I did realize, though, that I was in a bizarre spread-eagled position. That would mean I didn't fall as far as I thought I did.

I could hear the others standing up around me after the first few seconds. "Um, Loony, are you...ok?"

I forced my eyes open and could see the sky. But I was lying in some underground chamber about fifteen feet from the surface. I could see the hole in the ground through which I fell. It was about ten or so feet wide. My first thought was that I was dead and had woken up just as I was being lowered into my grave.

No, that was stupid.

I used a stalagmite to pull myself into a standing position. I didn't hear anything break, and no particular limb was hit with a sudden blast of pain, so I was ok.

Wait. Stalagmite?

"We're in a cavern..." I said dreamily.

"No, duh!" came Chunk's voice. I turned around and saw a semi-narrow passage leading in the direction of the trees and away from the coast. It was just big enough for me to stand up straight in, but Brand, Andy, and Mouth would have to duck. That's sad. I'm shorter than a 12? 13? Year-old.

Mouth! Was he ok?

I glanced around. Mouth and Data were both standing, but refusing to look at one another. Oh well, at least they weren't killing each other.

"It's a sinkhole," I said, fascinated. "I've read about these...some people build a foundation on them, and they collapse, and..." I stopped short, staring down the dark passage.

"So our combined weight made it collapse, then," Brand said.

"I guess," I said. The ground must have been fairly weak for us to have broken through to such a distance. There was little debris on the floor of the cavern from the ground above. The thin layer of grass and dirt had cushioned our fall.

"Well, maybe I was a little off..." Data said, without a touch of guilt or any reference to what he had just done. I wondered if anyone was going to do anything about him. Or if anyone else even remembered, because as soon as Data said that, everyone's faces lit up with realization.

This was the passage to Daniel Bradford. It had to be.

"Let's go!" Mikey said excitedly. He pulled out a lantern from his backpack, and lit it. He took my wrist and started down the passageway.


	14. Not Alone

Author's Note: So much for my One-Chapter-A-Day streak. I'm only on Chapter 14, but that's because I was a counselor at a camp for a week and then went to the beach for a week...oh well. I'm going to introduce Stef soon, I promise. And someone new...I don't know when, but I will. He's interesting...I'm still trying to decide what I'll name him. Either Norman or George. Well, here you are. Chapter 14.

The others followed closely. I was glad Mikey was going first, because the cavern was heavy with spiderwebs. Part of me was glad I couldn't see the spiders themselves, part of me wishes I could so I could avoid them. I hoped beyond hope that they wouldn't get on me. I'm not bothered by bugs in general, but there's just something about spiders I don't like...

For once, being short was convenient. I was just about as tall as Mikey, so he was able to clear all the spiderwebs for me. Plus, I was able to stand up straight, while Brand, Andy, and Mouth had to stoop over slightly so their head wouldn't hit the ceiling. Obviously Mouth, because I heard a dull thunk and Mouth's voice mumbling, "Oh, shit!"

"Do you really think Daniel Bradford is down here?" I whispered to Mikey, about a quarter mile down the passage. It was one of those situations where you didn't need to talk quietly, but there was some kind of air about it that demanded near silence.

"I'm not sure," he replied, "but it's still amazing!"

"Amazing, yes," Brand pointed out, "But a sinkhole this big is bound to be noticed soon, and explored. We'll be flushed out!"

"They'll explore the cave," Data repeated, and thought for a moment. "No, we're the first to explore the cave! We're just like real archaeopterists!"

"That's 'archaeologists,' genius," Chunk corrected.

"That's what I said! Shut up, Chunk."

"Watch your step, guys," Mikey warned suddenly. "We're descending now."

And indeed, I did notice a downward slope in the passage. The ceiling was getting a bit higher, and Brand, Andy, and Mouth were able to stand up straight. They pushed past me, Brand snatching the lantern as he went by Mikey.

Then, I heard another dull "thunk." I thought maybe Mouth had hit his head on the ceiling again, but I heard a little groan and the word "pain" whispered in a strained voice.

"What's going on?" Data asked. "What happened!" He jumped up and down at my shoulder, trying to see over me. I backed up against the wall of the cavern and let him run up to where the lantern had stopped.

"Oh my god!" Andy screamed. "Oh my god, oh my god!"

"What!" I asked frantically. "What is it?" I automatically assumed the worst. Did they find a corpse? Caverns that nobody knows about are perfect for hiding corpses. What if someone found us down here? What if we died down here? When would they find our bodies? The sinkhole was open. Someone would find us soon. I think. Can't let panic set in now. I'm not normally a claustrophobic person, but if I get a panic attack in a small space, that can't be a good thing, can it?

"Mouth!" Data yelled. "Mouth, wake up!"

I breathed a sigh of relief. Mouth had hit his head on the ceiling. A little too hard, I suppose. No damage done...right?

"What if he has a concussion!" Andy cried, and buried her face in Brand's chest.

I forced myself to look down. Well, maybe not forced. Part of me really wanted to see what happened out of the morbid curiosity that is human nature, and the other part wanted to not look, not see. But I did look down.

His eyes were closed somewhat tightly, and he looked fine at first glance. His limbs were splayed, but none were at any odd angles.

Then Brand moved the lantern with the hand that wasn't holding Andy, and the rest of his body was shrouded in shadow as the light focused on his forehead.

_Warm_

_Red_

_Sticky_

No, no, not that. Please, not that. Not again. Please, Lord in heaven, don't let this happen again.

The world spun around me and the light of the lantern fused with the darkness of the cavern. I could no longer see anything but darkness and figures standing, seeming to mock me with their light. Almost like they dared me to come closer.

I would break out. I would leave them, I wouldn't let them get me. Demons, they were. After me, wanted to make me relive it again, I had let them out, I couldn't let them out again. They wanted to catch me, they wanted to pull me under.

Not if they couldn't catch me.

The dark figures, the demons, had clustered around me now. They were going to make me stay here, they were going to make me watch it all happen again, make me watch this boy bleed and bleed until there was nothing left and they were going to make me scream to be let out. But it would be too late. I had to get away. They couldn't hold me back if I got away.

I let out a cry and shoved the figures away from me and against the walls of...was I still in the cavern? I was completely unaware of where I was, and I didn't care. I was in my own little antimatter universe where there was no way out and the only way to keep from getting caught and forced to endure eternal torment was to keep running. If they couldn't catch you, they couldn't make you stay.

While the demons were stunned, I made my exit, running further and further into the darkness, frequently smashing into unseen obstacles. I tripped and dragged myself on for God knows how long. It could have been seconds, or minutes, or hours, time ran together in my universe. Time was not defined, neither was distance. The only thing that was defined, that had a limit, was my endurance, and it ran out without warning. Or maybe I tripped again, and was simply so drained of strength I couldn't rise. One minute I was running, the other I was on the ground, unable to move. Adrenaline can only carry you so far. They would catch me now for sure, maybe, if they thought I was dead...

I can't move. Maybe I am dead. My mind was fading fast, and I didn't breathe, at least not consciously. Maybe if I was dead they couldn't hurt me. Maybe...

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_"Why is Mommy in that box?"_

_"Because they are going to bury her."_

_"Why? If they bury her, and she wakes up..."_

_"Luna...honey...Mommy's not going to wake up."_

_"She's not?"_

_"Not now, not ever."_

_"Why not?"_

_--------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

"Goddammit, Luna, you're bloody fast."

My eyes fluttered open. I could move! But they had caught me.

Who had caught me? I thought, as I looked at the figure towering over me.

Chunk grinned. "Brand wants to know if you're a shkitso freak."

"Schizophrenic," Andy corrected. Her voice was low and I could tell she was trying to keep it calm, but from its unsteadiness I could tell she had been hysterical minutes earlier. I sat up and saw that I was in an egg-shaped chamber in the cavern, with rock formations that looked like bleachers. The Goonies were sitting on the rocky bleachers, looking at me. Waiting for me to speak, no doubt. Tell them why I did what I did. I wasn't exactly sure what I did anymore. Sometimes what goes on in my head isn't what happens on the outside.

Yes, I am on medication, thank you very much.

I waited for the inevitable reply of "That's what I said" but it didn't come.

"I don't know what happened," I admitted. I said it as a reply, to the question everyone was asking in their minds but for one reason or another refusing to verbalize. "How's Mouth?"

"He's okay, he's sleeping now," Brand said.

"Poor little guy," mused Andy. "First he gets his ass kicked by Data..."

Data looked proud.

"Mouth wouldn't appreciate you calling him a little guy," Mikey piped up.

"Well, I'm glad you dragged us down here, Luna," Brand said, "because look what we've found."

He held up an empty packet of cigarettes, and several freshly smoked cigarette butts.

"We're not the only ones here," I said, stating the obvious.


	15. Hermitsh are Intereshting

Author's Note: Chapter 15, finally. Ahh, summer. How I hate it. Well, I love the 'no-school-no-homework' aspect, but I hate summer in general. Oh well. And something happened in the family that has left me completely devastated and broken...let's not get into that right now. fake cheery smile Maybe in writing I can get rid of that feeling. Well, anyway...here we are. Read.

I stood and crept over to where Brand was sitting, holding the box and the cigarette butts. For my own confirmation I picked one up and sniffed it. It still smelled of smoke, which, in retrospect, was odd, because nowhere in the cavern had we smelled cigarette smoke before. Even here I couldn't smell it.

"I bet its those hooligans," Data exclaimed, pronouncing it as 'hoo-LEE-gans.'

Brand stood up. "I wouldn't be surprised. I'm going to go further up. There has to be another entrance to this cavern somewhere. And it can't be too far. Anyone else coming?"

Surprisingly, none of the boys offered.

Andy stood. "I'll come. Luna?"

I swayed unsteadily. I wanted to come, terribly. I wanted to see what else was down here. And where the tunnel lead. But it was too soon after the attack for me to feel comfortable. And I couldn't just leave the boys down here by themselves. Not like there was anything I could do if an attacker came, I was pretty much helpless. I wasn't skilled with any weapons or trained in Ye Olde Honorable Arte of Combat. However, it made me feel better to be down here. Part of me almost felt important, like a chaperone.

Some chaperone I would be. People are always telling stories of how in the midst of battle, people 'find their bravery' and 'sacrifice themselves' for their friends. Call me selfish, but I couldn't do that. I'm too protective of my own life, I came too close to losing it.

Oh well.

I watched in dismay as Brand and Andy made their way up the passageway and into the darkness. The light from their lantern faded, but the chamber that I was in was still lit. I saw that Chunk was sitting on the highest 'bleacher,' holding a second lantern.

I looked at him. His eyes were large and the irises reflected the light of the lantern so they almost seemed to glow. It was almost as if he was asleep himself.

I contorted my back in all directions, looking for Mouth. Chunk, almost as if he was able to read my mind, raised the lantern so its light was more spread out throughout the chamber. It illuminated the figure of Mouth, slumped against the wall with a black piece of cloth encircling his head.

Velvet.

Oh my god! That bastard, whoever it was, had used more of my clothing as a bandage.

"Brand did it," Data piped up, seeing that I had spotted the telltale fabric.

"You cast away your backpack," Mikey said tonelessly.

"Did I?"

He nodded. "Right before you pushed us."

"I...what?"

"Yeah, you pushed me, Brand, and Chunk up against the wall."

"You ripped my shirt, turd," Chunk added.

I was glad I was not facing them at this point, because my mouth spread into a smile. His shirt was hideous.

Then, "What the hell? Children?"

It was a man's voice, but at the same time there was something high-pitched, almost feminine about it. One way or another, I didn't know who it was. But for some reason I wasn't afraid, merely startled. Partly because it wasn't the voice of Grover, or the guy in the top hat. Chunk, however, reacted differently and dropped the lantern. I heard the scrabbling of Data's and Mikey's feet as they hurried up the stone steps to Chunk. The clang of the dropped lantern awoke Mouth, whose eyes flew open and his hand flew to his head. "How much did I have to drink?" he asked jokingly.

The lantern's light had decreased dramatically, but that didn't hide a long, spindly hand that crept into it and pointed straight at Chunk, Data, and Mikey, who were all huddled together. "It wash you who opened the shinkhole, washn't it?" His voice possessed an odd lisp-like quality.

"He did it!" said Chunk frantically, pointing to Data. "He did it all, please don't eat me, don't chop me up into tiny pieces and put me in a soup, I'm much too young, I'm not even a teenager yet..."

High-pitched laughter echoed throughout the chamber and a figure stepped into the vicinity of the lantern. He was a young man of fairly small stature. He wore a raggedy button-up and jeans, and had a beard and a pronounced, dirty-blonde mustache. His head was bald, but by the looks of his face was no more than about twenty-five. He was holding a long, spindly hand in his...hand?

"Wh...what is that?" asked Mouth, his hand shaking as he pointed towards the hand.

"Oh, thish?" the man held up the hand stroked it lovingly. "Eh, it'sh jusht a little shomthin' I found in the deeper caverns one day. Shneaked it off Old Haneshhead while he was sleeping. Not like he'll ever wake up to find it missing!" He gave another burst of the strange, high-pitched laughter.

'Not like he'll ever wake up to find it missing'? Does that mean he's dead? Did this man kill someone?

Data bounded down the stone steps and skidded to a halt in front of the man, peering at his treasure. "Data!" Mikey called warningly, but Data paid him no attention.

"Guys!" Data said unsteadily. "This is a skeleton hand..." He ran back to the his cluster and clung to Mikey.

"Of coursh it'sh a shkeleton hand!" the man said, shaking his head. "I wouldn't take no hand from a living shoul! I took thish one and polished it up good, made it nice and shiny, and added shum tree bark for fingernailsh. Convinshing, ishn't it?" He pronounced 'nice' as 'na-eesh.' He continued, seeing our shocked faces. "Oh, don't go thinking I killed shum one, I am no murderer. There are heapsh of dead'unsh down in the playsh I call the dungeon. They got all kindsh of shtuff down there, so one day, I shez to meshelf, 'I'm gonna go down there.' Sho I took shum food to lasht me a few daysh, and a hammer and chisel, and carved meshelf a ladder out of the shtone. Because it'sh a pretty long way to fall, but no way to get back up. The wall ish flat!" He slapped the wall of the chamber for effect. "They all fell down there yearsh ago, ech-plorersh--" I think he was trying to say explorers-- "they called themshelves, and shtarved. Poor men. But now they're gone, and they left their worldly belongingsh behind. Sho I take what I need, and nothing more."

"For what purpose could you _possibly_ need a skeleton hand for?" asked Mouth dryly.

"Humour purposhez," the man replied. "She, when you're like me, you need entertainment. Your kind amuzes yourshelves with fanshey video gamesh and televijin and shuch, but I can't do that. Sho I amuze myshelf with dishcarded partsh of dead people."

A grin tugged at the corners of my lips.

"What do you mean, 'like you,'" Chunk asked.

"I," the man started, "am what _your kind_ callsh a hobo. A hermit. A primitive cave-dweller. But I tell you what, we HERMITSH would be the only onesh left to repopulate the earth, if there'sh a big regresh of shoshiety or whatnot, becuz we're the only onesh who know how to SHERVIVE!"

"And to survive you play with skeleton hands," Mouth said flatly.

The hermit nodded. "Yesh. In fact, nicked thish one off of Old Haneshhead and..."

"You already told us this story," Mouth pointed out, rather rudely.

The hermit glared at Mouth and pointed the skeletal hand at him. "Now you shtop interrupting me, boy. You got _shum nerve_." He lowered the hand and continued. "Anyway, nicked it off of Old Haneshhead, I did. She, I name the dead'uns if they don't have no identification of shortsh. I called thish one Haneshhead becuz when he croaked, he wash wearing Hanesh underwear...sho I put 'em on hish head!" He started laughing again, then said, between chuckles, "Sho I call thish little beauty..." he indicated the hand, "HANESHHAND!" And erupted into laughter that was twice as loud as before.

I scooted closer to the group of boys, as did Mouth. He picked up the lantern, which was still lying on the stone, and set it in an upright position.

The hermit stopped laughing as suddenly as he had started. "Norman."

"What?" Mikey asked, confused.

"Norman. That'sh my name. Norman. I live in the cave that haz a pashage that eventually leadsh down here. Lately, though, there have been shum other people shneeking about. One of em'sh real tall, and wearsh a funny hat. Looks like a right gentleman, he duz. The underling ish rather shtupid, actually. Keepsh bothering my cat. Themsh alwaysh shneeking down in my cavernsh to shmoke their goddamn shiggaretesh." Norman shuddered. "Shtinkin' up my cave, they are."

"Grover and Abe," I said quietly. I turned to face the Goonies. "They _are_ here to look for Daniel Bradford! I knew it!"

"Hey, hey, woah, hey!" Norman said loudly. "That'sh jusht a legend, lady. Nobody knowsh if his tomb is really down here or not."

"He is," Mikey argued, in a whisper for dramatic effect. "I know he is."


End file.
